Jerusalem Rising

by Barbara M. Britton

  “Until now,” Adah said.

  “You.” Holding her tambourine overhead, Noadiah shook it with a fury. “You are not a prophetess.”

  Adah retreated away from Noadiah and closer to Nehemiah, fearing the annoying instrument might come down on her scalp.

  “Perhaps the Hebrew woman should be a prophetess.” The official addressed Nehemiah. “I only allowed the governor and this seer to accompany my men because of their standing in Susa. I could not take the rumor of a rebellion lightly. Nor an ambush.” He flashed a stern look at Sanballat. “I will proceed into the city?” His inferred order to Sanballat was that the Samaritan would not accompany him.

  Nehemiah opened his arms wide and let his sleeves drape, displaying his adornments. “I would be honored to welcome you to the city of my fathers. We have made great progress with the king’s favor.” Nehemiah waited as the official mounted his horse. “You may report on our success when you return to the palace.” He indicated for Adah to join the procession. “I’m sure the daughter of Shallum will have the queen’s portion in no time.” Nehemiah arched his eyebrows with expectation.

  Adah swallowed hard. “Very soon.” Praise be she was not greedy with her scents as Judith possessed some of the queen’s fragrance. And praise be to her mother who made smelling every bloom, grass, nut, and bean in the area a blessing.

  “Do make your presence known on your return visit,” Sanballat called out to the king’s messenger. Even though his men outnumbered the king’s procession, the Samaritan’s leather and bronze armor paled in comparison to the brilliance of the silver and shiny metals of the Persians. The governor of Samaria would be a fool to start a skirmish.

  Adah held in a laugh. Well, he would be more of a fool.

  Farewell you men of violence.

  Noadiah commandeered a donkey and trotted toward the hills. Her purple veil fluttered in the wind.

  Oh, if she would only come face-to-face with the warriors of Jerusalem. For that would truly be justice for her slanderous accusations.

  Adah could not bask in pride about her own abilities. Jerusalem was safe for now, but to keep the king happy she had to recreate an original perfume. And fast.

  31

  The closer she came to the gate, the faster she moved.

  Men of Judah peered from behind the frame, from rooftops, and even secretly from far off cliffs.

  Praise be to the One True God that none of their blood was shed this day. Her skin warmed, not from the sun, but from the greatness of their God. You did not forsake me.

  Spying her father, she broke out into a dignified run. She welcomed the dust, the sour odor of bodies, and the smoke from cooking fires. This was her city, Jerusalem, the City of David.

  “Father,” she called, her throat aching from her dash.

  Her father reached out and took her hands.

  “There will be no battle. The king wants more of our gift. Of my perfume.”

  Rephaiah coughed, making a long guttural sound. “There goes your daughter again Shallum. She speaks but does not make any sense.”

  Her father caressed her hand with his thumb and then released his hold. “And where is your son, Gershom?” He shielded his eyes and pretended to survey the crowd. A few by-standers chuckled. “I did not see a son of yours face the army of Artaxerxes.”

  “And speaking of armies.” Nehemiah passed through the entrance with his arms held high. “Where are the bars for these gates? Jerusalem is not defenseless anymore.”

  Cheers greeted the governor’s announcement.

  Taking a few steps toward the rulers, Nehemiah said, “Rephaiah, don’t you have sons sitting idle?”

  The pious ruler balked.

  “After all,” Nehemiah continued, “we will need many strong backs to secure the bars. The household of Shallum will be too busy to assist. They must be in service to our king.”

  “Of course.” Rephaiah assessed the armor of Artaxerxes’ messenger. “I will summon my sons at once.”

  Satisfied as she was to see Rephaiah humbled, in front of laborers no less, her insides whirled as her mind listed all the duties she must perform to recreate a fragrance. But before she crumbled one bit of cassia into olive oil, she knew who she had to visit first.

  “Forgive my haste in leaving.” Adah bowed. Her feet itched to carry her down the straight street and through the eastern alleys. “I do not want to keep our sovereign waiting.”

  With one last head bob, she was off, scrambling past the temple, through the gathering space, and around curious city dwellers, to Othniel’s home. Oh, how she wished he was there with his words of encouragement to calm her fears. Was this an answer to her prayer? Could she make enough perfume to please the king and have enough left to sell to purchase Othniel’s freedom?

  She knocked on the door as was proper. One foot tap. Two. She burst into the living room, startling a spooked Zipporah and her daughter-in-law.

  “Are we at war?” the mother gasped.

  “No. Praise God.” Adah clutched her breast. Her heart hammered faster than Telem’s mallet. “We are safe. Our enemies are gone.”

  “Selah.” Zipporah collapsed into a chair. “I have lifted petitions to God but my sons have not returned.”

  And one of your sons is not in the cliffs or amassed at the gate or along the wall. Adah shook off any grievance to focus on the task at hand.

  “I need more jars like the one Othniel sold me.” His name took root in her throat. Swallowing, she continued. “It was made of gold and pearl and came in a cedar case.”

  Zipporah’s brow furrowed. “I used to own several of those pieces but not anymore. I cannot afford to purchase them, and no one has the means to buy such craftsmanship.”

  “King Artaxerxes has enough money. And he has asked me to make a special perfume for his queen.” Deep down she was still convincing herself these words were not lies. “I need as many of those bottles as you can find. You will have a royal escort to wherever you need to go.”

  Flipping her slightly gray hair over her shoulder, Zipporah’s eyes shone with a renewed fervor. She beckoned Adah to come sit in a chair next to her at the dining table. “The king sent an envoy to receive this perfume?”

  “Yes. I plan to make as much as I can so the queen can share her fragrance as a gift.”

  Zipporah shook her head. “No woman desires others to be the same, look the same, or even smell the same. Make another scent for the queen to gift her confidants.”

  “Two perfumes.” Adah clasped her hands. Did she have the time?

  Leaning close, Zipporah said, “Your name will be known throughout Persia. Others will come to your father’s door in search of the same fragrance. You can do this. I will help you.” The blaze in her brown eyes was big enough to set the room on fire. “Othniel spoke of your skill.” Her voice caught. “He would be proud of this recognition.”

  Adah folded her arms and rested against the edge of the table. Thinking about the hardship Othniel faced while she mixed oils for the king burdened her soul. She met Zipporah’s tear-filled gaze. “Is there any way he can return sooner?”

  “I pray every day.”

  “As do I.” Adah embraced the distraught mother before she rose to leave.

  “Daughter.” Zipporah’s voice was but a wisp. “Create the best fragrances so all of Persia will delight in the fragrant rose that is Jerusalem.”

  “And that rose will beget many blooms. When God sends the rain.” Adah bent and kissed her friend’s cheek. “Shalom.”

  She hurried to find Judith and reclaim the original mixture of perfume. Could she recreate the scent without her sister’s gift? Her mother had taught her well, but a reminder would rally her confidence.

  Judith paced outside their home. Had she heard about the king’s request? Perhaps she even had the jar of perfume with her. Bless you, Judith. Adah called out to her sister.

  Halting her frenzied walk, Judith looked up, face pale, eyes swollen. “He’s gone,” she said, her
voice strained.

  Her sister couldn’t be referring to Othniel. He had been gone for some time. Did Judith not realize Adah had witnessed the retreat of Sanballat and his soldiers? Her poor sister was distraught. “Who’s gone?” she asked.

  “Telem. He never returned from the hills.”

  32

  Sadness shadowed her triumph. Why Telem’s disappearance should bother her, she did not know. But it did. Sure they had finished the wall, but to go off without a word was a disgrace. How could her mason leave her like Othniel? Telem saw how upset she was at her friend’s absence? How could he put Judith through the same grief?

  She hid her displeasure and reached out to her sister. Wrapping her arms around Judith, she said, “Perhaps our Telem is delayed in his return. He may have possessions still in the cave.”

  Judith shook her head. “Jehu and Jehuliel waited for him. They said he vanished in the catacombs.”

  “You cooked for him as for a king.“ Adah swiped a tear from her sister’s cheek. “When his stomach grumbles, he will be at our door.”

  “I thought he cared for me.” Judith sniffed. “He spoke tender words during his recovery. He even took my hand and held it as if I were the one needing comfort.”

  “I know he cared,” a woman said.

  Adah and Judith startled.

  Their mother stood in the doorway, her forehead creased, her lips thin as a blade of grass.

  “Mother!” You were listening?” Judith’s eyes grew wide with shock.

  “I did not hear anything that I did not already know.” Their mother’s eyebrows arched. “Except the hand holding.” Their mother sighed. “Maybe it’s time I spoke of the past. Telem is not here to share his troubles.” She motioned to Adah and Judith. “You girls, come inside.”

  Was her mother going to break her silence and reveal a long-held truth? Did it mean Telem might never return? Her stomach sank with the heaviness of a millstone. Poor Judith. Her sister had grown even fonder of Telem than Adah had suspected.

  Adah placed a hand on Judith’s back and accompanied her inside the house.

  Judith balked. “I should not have bothered you. You have oils to mix for the king.”

  “The king can wait.” Adah would not miss this revelation she and Othniel had whispered about for so long. She grasped her sister’s hand. “You and I traipsed through a cave to find that man. You deserve to hear about his past and his reasons for leaving.” Adah kissed her sister’s forehead. “Besides, you need not worry about my work, for you have some of the queen’s perfume. Now we will finally hear about the man who has taken hold of your heart.”

  Judith squeezed Adah’s hand. “See, it is not a bad idea to be bold and share one’s feelings.”

  “No, it’s not.” Adah’s heart pinched. Speaking boldly had not brought Othniel back to her. Watch over him and Telem, Lord.

  Adah settled her mother into the high-backed chair in the corner. Judith lounged on a pillow next to their mother while Adah sat on the other side of the chair. Vibrant scarlet threads in the pillow’s tapestry on which she sat, reminded Adah of Persia’s colors and of how stark Zipporah’s house had become since the rain refused to fall.

  Their mother sighed. “I am not a gossip, but considering how close you have worked with Telem, and his obvious regard for you, my daughters, I will share my thoughts on why he might have left.”

  “To see his wife?” Judith shifted closer to the armrest as if the question was foremost in her thoughts.

  “No. Of that I am certain.” Her mother’s eyes blinked as if she envisioned a memory. “Telem and his father helped to rebuild our temple. Before the temple was complete, Telem’s father died. His mother had already passed. Being the sole heir, and child, Telem grieved terribly.” Her mother’s lips pressed together. “His heart was heavy. His family was gone. He married shortly after the mourning period. Too soon, I believe, for he married a foreign-born woman who did not worship our God.”

  Judith sunk into her pillow. “That is forbidden.”

  Adah tried not to judge her mason. Hadn’t neighbors slandered her actions with no understanding of her reasons? “Why did the chief priest allow such lawlessness?”

  Gazing across the room, her mother squinted as if the events of old played in real time in a vision. “Several priests had taken foreign wives. It became a common practice. No one protested until Ezra held them accountable to the Law.” Her mother reached out, fingered Judith’s head covering and stroked the cloth. “Ezra said if the priests defied God and kept their idol worshipping wives, they could not serve in God’s temple. If they gave their wives up, their status and positions would remain in good standing.”

  “Those poor women.” Judith’s words were but a vapor. “Their lives would be ruined. How could they return to their fathers with no husband?”

  “Did Telem send his wife away? Back to her people?” Adah’s heart ached for the girl.

  Her mother nodded. “I escorted his wife back home. Telem paid them in gold to receive her, and I stayed on for a while to make sure she was treated well.”

  Adah vaguely remembered a time when her mother’s cousin came to visit. She couldn’t recall why or where her mother may have traveled, but their house was oddly silent.

  Judith rested her chin on her knees. “Why are you so sure he hasn’t returned to his wife?”

  “Telem was distraught at her departure, but I think, in time, he became more grieved at how he disobeyed God and brought dishonor on his family name.” Leaning forward, her mother said, “One day, he left the city. Seasons passed, and he did not return. I believe he was angry. Mostly with himself. But also with God.”

  “He was not angry with me.” Judith traced the dips and curves of the carved armrest with her finger. “Perhaps after a time of prayer and fasting he will return.”

  “He owes us that much.” Annoyance emboldened Adah’s words. “Telem may have come back to Jerusalem to repay a debt he owed our mother, but we saved his life. Jehu and Jehuliel treated him like a brother. His father rebuilt the temple and Telem has rebuilt the wall. This is his city. He cannot abandon it. He cannot abandon us.” Adah jumped to her feet. “He won’t.”

  With a satisfied grin crossing her face, her mother said, “That same passion I hear in your voice will bring Telem back to our city. And to our Judith. He is free to marry a daughter of Jacob and have a union blessed by God. I may not have been able to see Telem’s face, but I heard the affection in his whispers.”

  Judith blushed at their mother’s utterance.

  “A troubled heart brought Nehemiah home to Jerusalem. May our friends find their way home as well.” Adah prayed her beliefs would come true. Telem and Othniel had to return to Jerusalem. She wanted their presence in her life. Without them, her future would be like a bud that never fully blossomed. She kissed her mother’s cheek. “Now I must use the talents you bestowed on me to create perfume for a queen.”

  “I will get the jar you gave me.” Judith hurried toward the hall. A glimmer of hope shone through her worry.

  Adah turned to her mother and stroked her hand. “Thank you, for sharing an old truth. You were a brave woman to travel to a foreign land.”

  Her mother stopped Adah’s caress and held fast. “Let no one say the wife, and daughters of Shallum do not rise to a challenge.”

  Adah had one challenge left.

  33

  Days later, in the seventh month

  “Are you coming?” Judith tapped her sandal on the floor of the storeroom. Each thap caused her mustard and scarlet robe to shake.

  “Yes, yes. Soon.” Adah secured the silver cap to her perfume bottle. Zipporah had used her best bartering skills to acquire jars overlaid with silver and gold, and set with stones. “I’m almost done with this one.”

  Judith sighed. “Only you would make the governor and Ezra wait.”

  After wiping her hands, Adah banded her linen head covering. “All of Jerusalem will be at the assembly. With women and
children milling about, no one will notice we are later than most.”

  “What about Father?” Judith asked the question, but no lines of worry wrinkled her forehead. Her face had shown little expression since the news of Telem’s abandonment. “He will be anxious for our arrival.”

  Adah untied her apron, set it on the table, and clasped a hand on each of Judith’s shoulders. “All Father will see when we make it to the Water Gate is how beautiful you look.” She kissed her sister’s cheek. “Do not worry. Our mason will return.” Please, Telem. For her sake. And mine.

  Judith nodded and turned away. “Mother’s waiting.”

  Adah followed Judith into the street. Their mother stood outside their dwelling, eyes closed, her face basking in the sun.

  “Pick up those sandals. No shuffling.” Her mother held out her arms. “The trade winds will blow into the assembly before we do.”

  “Not today. “Adah gazed at the sky her mother could not behold. “There is not a wisp of white to block God’s vision of His people.”

  Adah guided her mother and sister east toward the Water Gate. She didn’t want to miss any of what Ezra the priest had to say, but she wanted to be ensure her mother’s safety. If Jerusalem were a bouquet of flowers, its stems would be nourished by the pools near the gate.

  A few women hurried by carrying their children as a mass of people gathered inside the Water Gate. Ezra positioned himself at a podium set high on a platform. The elderly priest held court in front of cedar planks that created new doors to the city. Fresh wood, a gift of the king’s forests, prevented any visitor from entering Jerusalem. This day, only the people of God gathered to hear their priest.

  Behind the gift of a new gate, terraced withering and burnt vineyards and fields. Adah shook the desolation from her mind and beheld the elder priest. In his place of prominence, no one could deny his authority or claim ignorance of his forthcoming message. Nehemiah, rulers, and officials flanked Ezra’s sides, but the Book of the Law occupied the seat of honor, lying open and perched at the priest’s waist.