by Lynn Austin
“I don’t have to listen to this.” Nathan scrambled to his feet, but Joshua moved just as quickly and pulled Nathan into his arms. The boy struggled, trying to free himself, but Joshua held him fiercely, resting his face against Nathan’s hair, praying that he would feel something besides anger and disappointment toward this child.
“Let me go!” Nathan shouted as he tried to break free.
“I won’t, Nathan. I’m not giving up on you.”
“When are you going to get it through your head that I don’t need you?”
“Maybe I need you.”
After a moment Nathan stopped struggling. When he sagged in Joshua’s arms, sobbing, Joshua felt his own anger fade. He held him for a long time, until Nathan’s tears finally subsided.
“We can worship together at the evening sacrifice,” Joshua said softly. “Let’s go home now, son.”
The Egyptian sun blazed like a furnace in the afternoon sky as Nathan walked home with Mattan from their Torah lesson. He wiped his arm across his gritty forehead. “I don’t remember it ever being this hot in Jerusalem,” he grumbled.
“Quit griping,” Mattan said. “You always talk as if Jerusalem was perfect, but it wasn’t.”
“It was better than this place. I hate being banished here.” Nathan had lived in Egypt nearly half his life, yet he still hated everything about it. He carried with him an aching restlessness that seldom went away. “Don’t you ever wish we could go home?” he asked.
“No. This is my home. I hardly remember Jerusalem anymore or—hey, you’ve got company.”
They had entered the family compound through the rear courtyard, and Nathan saw Jerusha standing in the doorway of his house, talking to two other women. The cluster of adjoining houses where his extended family lived was usually tranquil this time of day, the children and servants resting to escape the heat. He heard Jerusha thanking the women as she said good-bye to them, and he sensed something was wrong. Jerusha’s voice was hoarse with emotion, her eyes sorrowful and red-rimmed.
“What’s wrong?” Nathan asked in alarm.
She hesitated much too long before answering. “Let’s sit down in the shade where we can talk. I . . . I need to tell you both . . .” Jerusha’s eyes filled with tears. Mattan took his adopted grandmother’s arm and walked with her to the bench beside the outdoor oven. He sat beside her, but Nathan was too tense to sit.
“What’s wrong, Mama Jerusha?” Mattan asked. “Who were those women?”
“They were midwives.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Nathan demanded.
“I don’t know how to tell you this . . .” Jerusha’s voice broke and she wiped a tear. “You know that Miriam is expecting a baby. Well, something went wrong . . . we don’t know what . . . and the baby died in her womb. It happens to women sometimes, but it’s especially sad because Miriam waited three years for a child.”
Nathan’s heart pumped with fear. “Is she okay?”
“The midwives said she’ll be fine in a few days.”
“I want to see her.”
“Not right now, Nathan. Wait a little while. Joshua is with her.”
Her answer infuriated him. How dare Joshua exclude him? “She’s my sister!” he said angrily.
“I know,” Jerusha said. “But Miriam and Joshua need time to grieve. Why don’t you go to Mattan’s house for a little while? Joshua will send for you later.”
“Are you coming, too, Mama Jerusha?” Mattan asked as he helped her to her feet.
“In a few minutes,” she said sadly. “I need to take care of a few more things first. You boys go ahead.”
“Come on, Nate,” Mattan said as Jerusha went back into the house.
Nathan didn’t move. Two conflicting emotions battled inside him: immense relief that his rival for Miriam’s affections was dead, and enormous guilt that he had wished for it. He’d been angry enough when his sister had married Joshua and he’d been forced to share her with him; the idea of sharing her with Joshua’s baby had enraged him. He had hated that child since the day he’d learned Miriam was expecting and had wished it would die a thousand times over. Now his wish had come true. As Mattan took his arm to steer him away, Nathan jammed his elbow into his brother’s ribs.
“Ow! What was that for? What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m not going to your house.”
“Fine. I’ll go home without you. I don’t care if you come or not.” Mattan stalked away.
“It’s my fault that Miriam’s baby died.”
Mattan stopped and slowly turned to face him. “How do you know that? What did you do?”
“I kept hoping that it would die. I wished for it. One of the gods must have answered my prayer.”
“Don’t be stupid. You know there’s only one God. Why do you even talk like that?”
“When I lived with the Egyptians, they told me about the evil eye. They said that sometimes—”
“I’m not listening to any more of this.” Mattan strode to the door of his house and opened it.
Nathan hurried to catch up. “I’m telling you I wished it! All I could think about was how much I wanted Joshua’s kid to die. If he has a son of his own, he won’t want me around anymore. Now his baby is dead, and I know it’s my fault.”
“My father had two more sons and nothing changed for me.”
“That’s different.”
“How? How is it any different?” Mattan asked. “Abba adopted me the same day Uncle Joshua adopted you.”
“Joshua isn’t like your father. Besides, your parents were married when we met them, but Joshua and Miriam . . . I don’t know, I can’t explain it. Just forget it.” He turned and strode away.
“Where are you going?”
Nathan kept walking without answering. The truth was, he didn’t know. When he reached the street corner and glanced back, he was relieved to see that Mattan hadn’t followed him. He wandered aimlessly for a while before reaching the riverbank, then gazed with longing at the distant forbidden shore, watching the ferry approach and tie up at the dock. The Jewish boys on Elephantine Island weren’t allowed to mingle with the Egyptians or travel off the island without an adult, but Nathan suddenly had an overwhelming urge to visit the mainland.
It was much too easy for him to sneak on board the ferry without paying. Nathan hadn’t stolen anything in more than three years, but as the boat shoved off with him onboard, he savored the familiar addictive rush of pleasure that came from getting away with it. He loved to take chances, to live on the edge, to flirt with getting caught. Nothing could compare with that feeling.
Once the boat reached the mainland, Nathan slipped ashore as easily as he had boarded and made his way to the marketplace. He wandered among the crowds for a long time before stopping to gaze at a display of Egyptian amulets—scarabs, the eye of Horus, ankh crosses. The craftsmanship was exquisite. He wished he could learn to carve that beautifully.
The owner interrupted his thoughts. “If you’re not buying anything, Jew-boy, move along!”
Nathan knew that the way he dressed and wore his hair marked him as Jewish, strikingly different from the Egyptians. He fingered the long locks of hair on the sides of his ears, hating them. He looked like a freak because the stupid Torah forbid him to cut them off.
With anger and resentment building inside him, he wandered down the row of brightly colored booths, pausing in front of a display of knives. He could carve all kinds of beautiful things with one of those knives—except that Joshua had forbidden him to even own a knife, much less carve anything. The memory of how Joshua had banished him from the island for doing what he loved made Nathan angrier still. As an idea began taking shape in his mind, Nathan crossed the narrow lane to observe the booth from a distance. Out of sight of the owner, he decided which knife he wanted, then patiently waited for an opportunity to steal it.
After nearly half an hour, an Egyptian man finally approached the booth to haggle with the owner over the price of a dagger.
When both men were engrossed in their bargaining, Nathan sauntered across the street, weaving between customers. He carelessly bumped into the display, lifted the knife from the table as he steadied himself, then slipped his prize into his sleeve. For the second time that day an exhilarating rush of excitement surged through his veins. He had done it! He forced himself not to hurry and draw unwanted attention, then turned the corner to blend into the crowd clustered around baskets of fruit, sacks of grain and spices, and cartloads of vegetables. The thrill of victory felt heady.
Eventually, the novelty and excitement of the marketplace began to fade and Nathan drifted away, wandering down a narrow side street. A group of Egyptian boys a few years older than himself crouched in the dirt, playing a game of senet. The wooden board was homemade, with flat stones for markers and a pair of knucklebones for dice. He stood on the sidelines watching as each pair of contestants moved their stones in an S-shaped path around the board. One boy, whom the others called Hassan, won every game. Nathan had learned to play the game during the months he had lived on the mainland working for the Egyptians. He’d watched the older men play during their lunch breaks; he still remembered a few moves that he hadn’t seen Hassan use. When everyone else had been defeated, Nathan elbowed his way to the front.
“I’ll play you next.”
Hassan wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Look! It’s Jewish scum! I thought I smelled something revolting.” The others roared with laughter.
Nathan planted his hands on his hips. “What’s the matter? Afraid a Jew might beat you at your own game?”
“Not even in your dreams.”
Nathan brandished his new knife, dangling it in front of Hassan’s face before tossing it in the dirt beside the senet board. “Then let’s make the game interesting. My knife against your amulet.”
Hassan fingered the ivory eye of Horus that he wore on a leather thong around his neck while the other boys goaded him to accept Nathan’s challenge. “Come on, Hassan, take the Jew’s knife. He can’t beat you.”
Hassan slowly untied the amulet and laid it in the dirt beside the knife. “All right, show us how Jews lose.”
Nathan played calmly, coolly, enjoying the rapt attention as all eyes focused on the contest. Hassan began to sweat once he glimpsed Nathan’s speed and skill. When Nathan triumphantly removed the last of his seven pieces from the board, five of Hassan’s remained. Nathan scooped up the knife and the amulet with one hand.
“That’s how Jews win!”
In an instant Hassan leaped on him, smashing his fist into Nathan’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. Nathan fought back with a vengeance, unleashing all of his pent-up anger and rage. They rolled over and over in the dirt, pounding each other. Nathan gave blow for blow and might have defeated him in spite of the older’s boy’s size if Hassan’s friends hadn’t joined in the brawl. Four of them pinned Nathan to the ground while Hassan beat him viciously. When Nathan was nearly unconscious, Hassan used the new knife to cut off Nathan’s sidelocks for a prize, pocketing them along with the knife and the amulet. He sauntered away with his laughing friends.
Nathan longed to sink into oblivion. It hurt to breathe, let alone move, but he knew he had to leave before Hassan and his friends decided to come back and beat him some more. He struggled to his feet and limped toward the ferry dock, barely able to see out of his swollen eyes. Blood and dirt smeared his torn clothes. He ached all over, his stomach and ribs so badly bruised that he could barely stand erect. The gods had punished him justly. He deserved much more than a beating for wishing Miriam’s baby would die. Hassan should have killed him.
When he reached the river, Nathan was in too much pain to try to sneak on board the ferry again. Instead, he spotted a lone Jewish man standing in line and hobbled up to him.
“I’ve been robbed,” Nathan said through swollen lips. “Can you lend me the boat fare home?” The man nearly dropped his goods.
“Heavens, boy! Who did this to you? And they even cut off your locks? We need to report this to the Egyptian authorities.”
“No, just help me get home. My family will take care of it.”
“What’s your name, son?”
“Nathan, son of Joshua ben Eliakim.” He felt a shiver of pleasure at the look of awe and respect on the stranger’s face.
“Oh my. Did he send you here to the mainland on an errand?”
“He doesn’t know where I am.”
It would cause a scandal when word of his disobedience spread across the island. Nathan smiled slightly, aware that he had evened the score with Joshua for wanting a son of his own blood.
The man not only paid Nathan’s fare but insisted on delivering him to his doorstep, refusing payment for the ferry. Joshua answered the door himself, and when Nathan saw the look of shock and anxiety on his face he thought it was almost worth suffering the pain of his injuries to produce such a reaction.
“Nathan! What happened to you? Where have you been?”
“As if you care.” He brushed Joshua’s hand away as he fingered the stubble that remained of his sidelocks. “Go cry for your real son.”
Joshua grabbed him as he tried to push past. “Answer my question!”
Nathan folded his arms across his chest and stared back in defiance. As the silence lengthened, he noticed with satisfaction how pale and haggard Joshua looked, how hard he had to struggle for each breath. For reasons he didn’t understand, Nathan enjoyed Joshua’s distress. Even more, he enjoyed adding to it.
“Do you care at all what this day has been like for me?” Joshua said at last. “Miriam could have died, our baby did die, and now my son, who has been missing all afternoon, comes home beaten half to death and won’t tell me what happened. I have no strength left for games, Nathan. Tell me who did this to you.”
“A bunch of Egyptian kids.”
“On the mainland? Why did you go to the mainland? You know it’s forbidden—”
“Because I felt like it.” He saw the color rise in Joshua’s cheeks as the grip he held on his anger began to slip. Nathan couldn’t resist a smirk of pleasure in spite of the fact that it made his lip crack and begin to bleed again. “Go ahead, beat me for disobeying.”
Joshua drew a breath to speak and began to cough. Several moments passed before he could talk. “Don’t say such stupid things. You know I’ve never beaten you, even when you’ve deserved it. Go get cleaned up, then we’re going to the mainland to see the Egyptian authorities.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Nathan paused, prolonging the agony for Joshua, watching him steel himself for what would come. “The fight started over a game of senet. I was gambling with some stuff I stole in the marketplace.”
Nathan expected an explosion of anger, but it never came. Instead, all the emotion drained from Joshua’s face, replaced by the icy detachment of a stranger.
“I see. Then I guess you’ve already received the punishment you deserve.” He turned his back on Nathan and walked away.
“When can I see Miriam?”
Joshua faced him again from the doorway, his words cold and deliberate. “Miriam is distraught after losing her baby. I didn’t dare add to her pain by telling her you were missing. You’re not going in to see her looking like that. You’ll stay away from her until your face heals.”
Nathan was so angry he wanted to punch Joshua. But he was in too much pain to fight with anyone. He had lost. Miriam could have died, and it was all his fault. He went to his room and lay down on his bed to weep, alone, in the dark.
17
Manasseh couldn’t believe this was happening to him. He watched the Assyrian delegation leave his throne room and felt too shaken to stand. The Assyrians had claimed they were offering a simple peace treaty but he knew better.
“This is the end of our sovereignty as a nation,” he murmured. “The Assyrians are going to swallow us alive.”
“You’re looking at it all wrong, Your Majesty.” Zerah shifted in his seat at Manasseh’s right hand so t
he other assembled nobles couldn’t hear his words. “The Assyrians are offering you a great political opportunity, and I think—”
“It’s not a political opportunity, it’s a threat—join the Assyrian Empire as their vassal or be annexed by their army!”
“Your Majesty, they said nothing about resorting to force. You know that Sennacherib’s army was destroyed—right outside your gates, in fact.”
“Wake up, Zerah! That was more than twenty years ago! They could give birth to an entirely new army and train them to fight in twenty years’ time. And you can be sure that’s exactly what Emperor Esarhaddon has done. Didn’t you hear what his delegates just said? ‘It’s the dawn of a New Assyrian Empire.’”
“Then why not join them? Your grandfather, King Ahaz, made an alliance with Assyria and brought peace to our nation.”
“My father always used King Ahaz as an example of how not to reign.”
“But your father was controlled by factions that—”
“I want it quiet in my throne room!” Manasseh suddenly shouted. The agitated murmuring stopped instantly. It had rumbled through the audience hall ever since the Assyrian delegates had departed, but now the king’s nobles and officials straightened in their places, their faces somber as they faced him.
In the hush that followed, Manasseh heard his guards talking among themselves outside his throne room door, but after a moment their voices stilled, too, as silence and fear spread like rising water. He could see by Zerah’s tense posture that he had more to say.
“Finish with it, Zerah, before I lose my patience.”
“I simply wanted to point out that your father also made alliances when it suited him. There’s nothing wrong with treaties.”
“My father’s alliances were made between equals. They never required him to pay tribute. Assyria wants us as their vassal state like the rest of the nations around us. I’d be selling our freedom—a freedom hard-won by my father.”
Zerah gave an elaborate shrug of surrender and slumped back in his seat. Manasseh knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t give up this easily. More arguments were sure to follow in the days ahead, before Manasseh was required to give the Assyrians his answer.
