Journey to the Well: A Novel

by Diana Wallis Taylor

  When Haman told an exceptionally funny tale, she could not resist laughing softly. She looked up on one such moment to find Haman’s eyes on her. She glanced at Jesse who was watching Haman, his eyes glittering momentarily. Then, for some reason she looked at their host. He was observing them all, his face bland and unreadable.

  Jesse stood up quietly. “We wish to thank you for your generous hospitality, my lord. It has indeed been a wonderful meal. May God bless you abundantly for your kindness to my family.”

  Ahmal made the expected protest, extolling the early hour. When they insisted they could not presume upon his gracious hospitality further, Ahmal bowed and reluctantly bid them good night.

  Marah knew that the next day her husband would have to work hard to make up for the time missed today.

  28

  Jesse rose early to prepare for the day’s travel. He knew where to find the oak tree he needed for a merchant’s recent order. He’d made a heavy cart to bring the wood back to his shop and was hitching the mule he had borrowed from a friend. Haman had not appeared. Just as Jesse thought Haman had backed out of his promise, he strolled into the courtyard obviously dressed for work. Jesse nodded at him with approval.

  “Shall we be going, Cousin? The sun rises and the day will be hot.” Haman smiled. “After you, Cousin. I’m ready to work.” Marah came out and handed Jesse a leather pouch with provisions for lunch and a jug of water in a leather sling. He swung the leather pouch and leather sling over his shoulder and touched Marah’s cheek briefly with his hand.

  “May God keep you on your journey, Husband.”

  “God keep you, Wife,” he said with a smile. “We shall be hungry men after this day’s work. I shall probably be ready to eat for three.”

  “You already do, Husband.” She laughed. “And our son is following in your footsteps.” She turned to Haman. “It is good of you to help Jesse.”

  Haman waved one hand in a deprecating gesture. “What else is family for, Cousin?” His eyes looked briefly into hers and he turned away, but not before Marah had seen a gleam of something else in their depths.

  Marah stepped back from them and turned quickly to Jesse. “Those bandits that plagued our cousin could still be in the hills. You will be careful . . . both of you?” She smiled but looked anxiously at his face.

  “We will take the utmost care, beloved. We are two strong men; we’ll be all right.” He looked around the courtyard. “Where is Caleb?”

  A sudden squawking of the chickens erupted almost as he spoke, and Caleb appeared, driving the chickens into the courtyard from their coop.

  Jesse laughed. “You weren’t getting in the way of that rooster again, were you?”

  Caleb grinned. “He doesn’t bother me. I told him he might end up in one of Mama’s stews if he isn’t careful.”

  “You will be late for school if you do not hurry, Caleb.” Marah put an affectionate hand on his shoulder.

  “Yes, Mama.” He looked a little wistfully at his father. “You are sure I cannot come with you, Papa?”

  “I am sure. There will be another time, Son. For now, you must learn from the Book of the Law. Your education is important. You will be of age before we know it.”

  Caleb nodded. “Goodbye, Papa. Goodbye, Cousin Haman. Have a good trip.” He waved at them and dashed out of the courtyard.

  “A fine young man, Cousin,” observed Haman thoughtfully. “You must be very proud of him.”

  “Yes,” Jesse acknowledged as he looked after Caleb. Then, impatiently, “Let us be on our way. We will be doing well if we can return by nightfall.”

  Elon appeared from the house and walked slowly toward them. “Ah . . . there was a day when I would have gone with you and done more than my share of the work,” he lamented. Elon stopped and peered at Haman. “You are sure you can keep up with this young giant?”

  It had been meant as humor, but Haman’s smile was thin. “He may have trouble keeping up with me, Uncle,” he replied with a smirk.

  Jesse pulled on the reins and the two men followed the cart out of the courtyard and were soon out of sight. Marah stood looking after them, as a strange feeling of apprehension came over her. Why did she feel so restless this morning? In spite of his wit and camaraderie, Haman disturbed her. She didn’t know why. Haman admired her, she knew that, but she had caught a glimpse of something deeper than admiration from time to time. It was there in his glance even this morning—desire.

  There was much to do today, and with resolve she shook off the heavy feelings and turned to the house.

  29

  The two men walked in silence for a while as the mule plodded steadily along.

  “We have had an unusual number of caravans this month,” Haman was saying. He did not receive a response from Jesse and sensed that his cousin was preoccupied with something. He tried again. “What will you be making from this tree?”

  “A chest.” No more was offered and Jesse’s brow was creased with a frown. Haman glanced cautiously at his cousin. Somehow Haman sensed that the thoughts that occupied Jesse’s mind did not concern carpentry. Perhaps he had been a little too open in his admiration of his cousin’s wife. He’d had more than his share of successes, even with the wives of other tradesmen. Marah was different. She was truly in love with her husband, and always when he came, Elon or Caleb seemed to be around. He had his comforts, but he found himself more and more occupied with thoughts of Marah. She was beautiful and he loved to watch her body as she moved about the house. He found himself obsessed with thoughts of her at night, yet he knew she would not look at another man.

  “We are nearing the place I am looking for,” Jesse spoke suddenly, bringing Haman back from his preoccupation.

  Haman made an effort to joke lightly. “Good. We will see who is the stronger man.”

  Jesse stopped and looked at Haman. “Is that why you came today? You want to prove yourself to me?”

  “A thousand pardons, Cousin. I came only to help. Does something disturb you?” Haman asked casually.

  “Something disturbs me, Cousin. That is why I agreed to have you accompany me. We can talk more to the point when my family is not around.” Jesse’s eyes smoldered with resentment. “I would have you pay more attention to my father, your uncle, and less attention to my wife!” It was out in the open. Jesse waited for Haman’s response.

  “Cousin, Cousin, forgive me if I have offended you. I admire anything beautiful, whether it is an animal, an item of trade . . . or a woman.” He shrugged casually. “It is only my way.”

  “Then perhaps you need to change your way in regard to Marah. Do I make myself clear, Cousin?” The last was spoken in such a way that Haman did not mistake the veiled threat.

  Haman grew hot. How dare this poor tradesman tell him what he could and could not do? No man ordered Haman about, unless a purse of gold accompanied his words. He would show Jesse who was the better man, in one way or another. Yet being a man who lived by his wits, he saw no point in forcing further confrontation. He would bide his time. With a forced show of humility, Haman looked innocently into Jesse’s eyes.

  “Truly, Cousin, forgive me if I have caused you offense. Perhaps I have envied you your family, having not had one of my own. I shall take pains to treat your family with the utmost respect.”

  Jesse hesitated, but Haman’s sincere plea won him over. “Then I too apologize for my jealousy. We shall forget the words were spoken.”

  Haman nodded. “Let us indeed forget this incident.”

  They walked on, climbing the slope of the mountain, and as they talked about many things, Jesse smiled at Haman’s stories as usual. Yet, underneath, Haman’s anger raged like a fire barely held in control.

  Jesse stopped at the base of a large oak. “This is the one. It will take both of us with all our strength on the double saw to cut it down.”

  Sweat ran freely down their faces and bodies as they pushed and pulled the large saw. Each man gave his best effort in silent competition broken o
nly by an occasional grunt. Haman proved more than equal to the task. At last the cut in the tree was almost sufficient for they heard a “crack” and the big tree shuddered.

  “Which way will the tree fall?” Haman asked, studying the tree.

  “Toward the cut. It will fall this direction.” Jesse indicated with his hand. “Before we finish the cut, we must make sure nothing is in the path of the tree.”

  He let go of the saw and turned to glance around. There were only a few small rocks, but just then, the mule that had been grazing a distance away wandered toward them. She was right in the path of the tree. With an exclamation, Jesse strode toward the mule. He had nearly reached her when his foot caught in a hole made by a small animal, and he sprawled on the ground. “Ahhhhhh!” He drew his breath in with the pain. Haman hurried to his side.

  “What happened?”

  “I caught . . . my . . . foot . . . in a hole.”

  “Here, let me help you up.” Haman reached an arm around Jesse’s broad shoulders and lifted with all his might as Jesse tried to stand.

  Jesse fell back to the ground and groaned with pain. “I . . . cannot. My ankle must be broken. Haman, get the mule. I can hang on to her bridle and between the three of us we can get to the cart.”

  “You cannot move?” He looked at Jesse, lying helpless on the ground. Just then the tree began to crack and snap. As Haman watched, frozen in place, the great tree groaned and began to fall toward them.

  “Haman, the tree, help me. Pull me out of the way!” Jesse reached out toward Haman.

  Haman looked quickly at his cousin. There were only seconds. If he tried to help Jesse, he might be crushed by the tree himself. If he did nothing, the tree would surely crush Jesse. He took hold of Jesse’s arm and tried to drag him out of harm’s way. But Jesse’s size, which was usually an asset, was now a disadvantage.

  “Quickly!” Jesse was screaming at him.

  Haman looked up just as the tree was bearing down on them. One branch struck him heavily as he jumped back out of the way. He went down on the ground, his head spinning. From somewhere there was a scream and then, darkness.

  When Haman awoke, the sun was low on the horizon. His head ached and his face was wet. He reached up to feel his head and his hand came away with blood on it. He moved his head slowly, trying to clear his mind. Then he thought of Jesse. Painfully he turned and saw Jesse lying under the main body of the tree. He stood up slowly and waited for the dizziness to pass, then he made his way to where Jesse lay. There was no sound and no sign of life. He put his hand on Jesse’s face but could feel no breath. A trickle of blood had run out of Jesse’s mouth. Was he dead?

  Haman cursed himself for his cowardice. In all his anger, he really meant no harm. He stood for a long moment. Marah’s face came before him, and knowing the anguish she would suffer, he cursed himself again. He shook his head. It was done. There was nothing more he could do for Jesse, except bring help to free him. Seeing the mule nearby, he staggered over, caught the bridle, and swung himself upon the animal. Leaning upon the mule’s neck, he urged her toward Shechem.

  30

  It had taken a long time for the men who had gone with Haman to recover Jesse’s body. The tree had to be cut into three sections to remove the part that pinned Jesse to the ground. Haman stood nearby, watching. He had offered to help but had been waved aside. His wounded head was bandaged with one of Hannah’s poultices. He had a great headache, and was relieved to sit down. In spite of his wound, he had ridden furiously back to Shechem to seek help for Jesse. This put him in a favorable light with the neighboring men in Shechem who gathered at Elon’s frantic summons.

  Marah waited in anguish, hoping beyond hope that they would bring Jesse back to her injured, but alive. She had tended Haman and heard his terrible story of the accident, the hole, Jesse’s fall; that the tree had been cut deeper than they thought. Elon listened, pain and anxiety on his wrinkled face; Caleb listened, sobbing quietly.

  Marah prepared the meal, her eyes constantly glancing toward the entrance to the courtyard. Elon sat quietly on a small stool, and Caleb tended the animals, dried tears on his small, pinched face. Hannah had brought some food and helped Marah with the meal. Simon had gone with the men to help. They waited, each with their own thoughts and fears. Marah fought the sense of foreboding that filled her chest and threatened to suffocate her. Jesse, alive and strong this morning, touching her face with his hand, his look of love. How she depended on him. How she loved him. He was to be with her forever. They would raise their children and grow old together. Even if he were crippled, he would at least be alive. She couldn’t bear to think of the alternative.

  Through the night they waited. It was nearly dawn when the men returned, moving slowly with the cart. Anxiously she and Caleb ran to meet them. The men were dirty and tired and hung their heads at the sight of her anxious face. Only Simon looked at her and his sadness sent a jolt of fear through her. He shook his head and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “I am sorry, Marah, he was dead. There was nothing we could do except to free him from the tree.”

  They stopped the cart and lifted the cloth that covered him. His face seemed peaceful, as though he were asleep. Caleb cried out, “Papa, no! No!” Marah tore her mantle; her cries of anguish echoing in the street as they led her home. Beside her she was vaguely aware of the sobs of a small boy.

  Elon stood with dignity as they approached the gate. Then he heard Marah’s cries as a small blond bundle flung himself sobbing into his grandfather’s arms. They comforted one another as tears ran down the old man’s wrinkled face into his beard.

  Elon tried to be strong for Marah, yet she could see his heart was broken. He bore the loss of his only son as bravely as he could, setting his own grief aside to give strength to Caleb and her.

  Marah was numb with pain. She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Haman.

  “I am sorry, Marah, so very sorry. I share your grief. If only there was something I could have done. I blame myself for this.”

  She looked up at him and saw the anguish in his face. “I am sure you did all you could, Haman, but thank you for your words.” She turned away, for she couldn’t speak further.

  Haman stood nearby a moment and then turned and spoke with Elon. “I would give anything to erase this day. I am sorry, Uncle. We were just getting acquainted. I didn’t mean to bring grief to our family.”

  Elon looked past him, gazing unseeing into the distance. “Thank you, Haman, I know you did your best to save my son.” He nodded quietly, putting a hand on his nephew’s shoulder, but in spite of Haman’s best efforts at conversation, Elon sat quietly and stared at the gate. Finally Haman left him alone.

  As he stood in the courtyard and watched the women come with their spices and pieces of cloth, Haman decided not to remain while they prepared Jesse’s body for burial. He turned and headed for the caravansary with heavy steps.

  After the burial, Caleb woodenly moved about his chores with the animals. The fun-loving, happy little boy was now a solemn child who seldom spoke except in single syllables.

  Elon seemed to fade away almost in front of their eyes. He ate little and slept even less.

  Haman came as often as he could with a word for Elon, comfort for Marah, and his usual small gifts for Caleb. Caleb had been raised to be courteous to adults and he responded politely to the gifts. After Haman had gone, Caleb would toss the gift in a small basket by his pallet not to be retrieved again.

  As the days moved into weeks, Marah kept herself going for Caleb’s sake. Once she found him sitting in the shadows holding the little camel his father had bought him the day they went to the caravansary. Tears were running down his cheeks. She knelt beside him and wordlessly took him into her arms as they wept together. It was the one and only time he let her comfort him after his father’s death. Jesse’s death changed Caleb. He went about his chores in a deliberate way. He volunteered to help around the house and seemed to watch over Marah lest she
do something too much for her strength. Then she realized that, with his grandfather’s enfeebled condition, and his father gone, he was trying to be the man of the house. Marah watched him as he stoically strove to be all that he could.

  One evening Elon spoke with Marah about their circumstances and the next morning he went into the village with Simon. When he returned, he drew Caleb aside.

  “Caleb, come. There are things we must talk about.” His grandfather sat down outside in the sun and Caleb sat next to him. Marah stood nearby, for Elon had told her of the results of his venture into the city.

  “Caleb, you have done well. I could not have gotten through this time without you.” The boy’s shoulders straightened and he lifted his chin with pride at his grandfather’s words. “Yet, we must consider what is now to be done.”

  “To be done?”

  “Yes, you are a great help, but you cannot run the carpentry shop, you are too young.”

  “I am strong. Papa always said I could do things most boys my age can’t do. I could take care of us.”

  “That is a comfort to me, Caleb, but the tradesmen will not let a ten-year-old boy work among them and run the shop no matter how capable you are.”

  Caleb looked down at the ground and shook his head. “What will we do?”

  “You could be an apprentice to one of the other carpenters. You have the skill of your father. In time, when you are older, you could have your own shop, just like your father. In the meantime, we must manage.” Elon tried to sound as positive as he could.

  Caleb considered his words. He knew his grandfather was right.

  “How would you like to choose some tools from the shop to keep?”

  “I would like that,” Caleb said slowly. Then a thought occurred to him. “What will happen to Papa’s shop, Grandfather?”

  “I will have to sell the shop, Caleb.”