by Beth Shriver
“Yes, we will come to him directly.” Stephen showed no sense of fear or resentment in dealing with the situation, and Enan was grateful.
The young man rode off and was gone as soon as he came, and then they gathered to talk.
Enan studied Vita and Hadar’s faces for understanding. “I have heard you speak of this man. He is the high priest.”
Hadar pursed his lips in thought. “Yes. He is boastful but harmless, but we must not keep him waiting. He is a proud man who demands respect.”
“You don’t respect the man who leads you?” Enan’s question didn’t seem to surprise Hadar. Instead, he acted as if he expected it and wanted to give his opinion.
He didn’t hesitate with his answer. “When a man does not live what he teaches, it is almost impossible to respect him.”
“Does this mean trouble for you, Hadar?” Stephen’s forehead crinkled with lines of concern for the older man.
Hadar waved a hand. “If we go and don’t resist, it may go well with us. If Barak felt threatened, he would have sent men to slay us, not invite us to his home.”
Enan felt a flutter in his chest and suggested, “This would be a good time to pray.”
Hadar looked from Enan to Vita, and back to Enan. Enan stepped forward. “We do have the same God. Your Yahweh and my Yahweh are one in the same.”
Enan felt burdened for these people. Yes, they believed in the one true God, but without Christ, they were lost. Although he was the one held there in jeopardy due to his faith, he felt more freedom than the people who lived here.
****
As they drew closer to the village, they grew solemn and took in the sights and sounds. They walked down a limestone walkway bordered by a stone, waist-high wall. Large fig trees towered behind the wall, and small green bushes lined the front. As they continued to walk, they passed by homes excavated from the earth.
It was well after the evening meal time, and children were out doing chores, chasing one another, and playing knucklebones. When they saw the two strangers, they stopped and stared. Some went into their homes and brought out their parents, who conversed in low tones. Hadar raised his hand in greeting, and they returned the gesture with curiosity.
“Do you feel as uncomfortable as I do?” Enan asked Stephen without looking over at him.
“Just keep your head up and keep walking. God didn’t get us this far to have us killed now.” Stephen held his head high.
They walked past the temple. Two pillars stood on either side of the entrance, one gold, and the other emerald, which shone brightly in the early morning sun.
Barak’s home was past the temple. An arched entry with a smooth stone frame, a wooden door, and a single window were all they could see from outside. A thin, bald man holding a lamp asked them to wait in the front room, which was well-lit with candles and lamps. Three substantial pieces of furniture decorated the room—a table and two chairs, and a woven rug in the center of them.
A large man entered and sat in an oversized chair lined with animal hide. He wore a burgundy robe with black, vertical stripes and a long, black scarf lay over his head and hung down the sides. His facial hair was trimmed and sprinkled with gray. His wide eyes watched them as they drew closer.
“Hadar?” His baritone voice carried throughout the room, gaining the attention of his visitors. “Tell me of these men.”
Hadar lowered his head to Barak as he answered. “Vita found these men. They came from the desert. Both were unconscious and injured. She took them in without knowledge of their customs.”
Enan and Stephen stood with Vita well behind Hadar, perfectly still.
“They have caused us no trouble.” Vita’s voice shattered Barak’s composure.
“Do not speak.” Barak bellowed with anger. Hadar glared at her with quiet disdain.
Barak motioned to Enan and Stephen. “Come forward. Christian Jews, what brought you here?”
“We were in battle with Claudius’s men.” Enan did not look in his eyes but felt this man’s curiosity. He hoped he would let them pass. Enan felt the power this man held and would leave tonight if Barak ordered it, no matter what the cost to his broken body.
His eyes flickered. “Romans, they are every man’s enemy.” He laughed a hearty laugh. “I gather you lost.”
Stephen seemed repulsed by this, but Enan half smiled. He didn’t see malice in Barak’s humor regarding their loss. “Yes. Their cavalry was much stronger, and we were outnumbered by what we thought to be five to one, but I believe those odds were generous.”
Barak paused and studied Enan. Although two completely different men, there was a connection, something unseen or unsaid. “Why should I let you stay among us? You go against our traditions of the laws and believe a prophet to be your savior.”
Enan looked right at Barak to answer. “We have differences and similarities.”
Enan opened his mouth to continue, but Stephen seized the opportunity and spoke lively. “We have much to offer. Your people have mines to make metals that we are in need of. We would like to buy these goods from you.”
“You still plan to fight the Romans?” Barak motioned for drink, and the bald man brought him wine. He seemed to be more relaxed, interested in the money they were offering.
Enan noticed Stephen’s fist ball-up, sensing his dislike for this man. “Yes, and we would like to teach your people how to defend themselves if the Romans try to penetrate your village, as they have done to ours.”
Barak set down his cup with emphasis, on the table next to him. “You would teach us your skills?”
Stephen clenched his teeth, so Enan spoke quickly. “We would do this in good faith so we could work together against the Romans. As you have said, we have a common enemy.”
Barak nodded, scrutinizing Stephen. “We have no warriors here. We are so remote no one comes to us.”
Enan felt Stephen would calm at Barak’s yield. “The Romans spread like a plague. It would be good for your people to know how to defend themselves should the need arise,” Enan urged.
Barak looked from one man to another and then to Hadar. “They are yours to keep until their promises are fulfilled.” Then he turned to Enan and Stephen. “You are only two, and we are many. You cannot cause any harm here.” His gaze wavered.
Enan felt this man held some sort of fear or respect of them even as they backed away. Hadar thanked him as they walked out of the room.
Enan glanced back at Barak as they left. “May you find peace?”
Hadar held his breath, but Barak only tilted his head and watched Enan until he disappeared from sight. The village priest now seemed to understand that they were not there to cause harm, but to help.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Few structures remained standing in the village. The Romans had reduced most buildings to ruins in less than a day. Skeletons of homes, surrounding the shared courtyard, made jagged silhouettes against the dawn. Smoke curled upward from the smoldering ashes to join the haze that covered the village.
Tirzah wondered if Enan had experienced the same plight over the vast miles that separated them. Although any death was tragic, deaths here among her own touched her more deeply than those of strangers. Tirzah pitied Enan for being the one who brought death, when she was able to try and sustain life.
Bluma stepped over crushed barricades that had been trampled by the adversary as they charged through the village in pursuit of their mission. Her people lay strewn throughout the wreckage, their deaths a waste of innocent life. Although the horror was still vivid in her mind, she found herself numb to the evidence she now witnessed.
Tirzah’s duty here was to search for her brother, David. He had followed Philip when the battle reached a pivotal moment in the conflict. The Romans killed for pleasure, and not just necessity. Her brothers had taken up arms when the number of villagers slaughtered had risen to desperate proportions. Now, any emotion that would have welled up was quashed by her resolve as a person of medicine.
&
nbsp; There were no lives to save as she’d grown accustomed to doing, so she had nothing to keep her distracted from her pain. She stared at the dim sky, recognizing this way of thinking was a matter of survival, not the person she truly was. Tirzah took comfort in that thought and moved Bluma forward.
Her back ached, and her legs were stiff from the hours of searching when she turned back to the village. Not wanting to find what she was sent out to look for did not help her fortitude. Soldiers and family members were out searching through the night when the fighting ended, when loved ones had not returned to their homes.
When Philip had arrived at the shelter with no sign of David, he and Andrew set out to find him. They had come home weary, and Andrew was in such great demand he had to tend to the injured, so Tirzah had offered to go back out.
Tirzah feared the worst, but she wouldn’t share that with her mother. Martha was in a delicate frame of mind after such a tragedy. The hope that Enan was still alive gave Tirzah the strength to do what she needed to. If he was not, she feared she may sink to her mother’s state as well.
As she made her way through the village, she peered through the rubble. The stone arch was now in ruins. On the other side of its foundation, she saw men with shovels in hand. The grave diggers were increasing in numbers.
With the sunrise before her, she could see a man in silhouette coming toward her. Her heart leapt for an instant, hoping it was Enan, but as she squinted to make out a face, she realized it was Nethan, and the sight of him made her miss Enan all the more.
For whatever reason, she’d known he would make it through the fight. Not only was he strong and able, but he had a quality about him that spoke of the will to fight through this challenge.
He walked over to her with drooping shoulders. He reached for her and spoke her name and helped her from her horse. She paused for a moment in his arms, glad for the strength and safety she found in them, and wishing she could take comfort in the warmth of his embrace.
He stepped back and looked into her eyes. “I have word of David.” He looked skyward and then back to Tirzah. “He died bravely.”
The false sense of security she’d felt melted away as she read the anguish in his eyes. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and choked back tears. His touch to her face caused the tears to come, and she fell into his chest.
“I’m sorry, Tirzah. So sorry. There are many things I could say, but none of them would bring you the comfort you need.” His grip tightened as she took a deep breath and pulled away.
“Thank you…for telling me. At least my family will know the truth and can begin to grieve.” She wiped her eyes and then gazed at his red-stained mantle and the bloodied leather sash around his waist. He followed her gaze to his ravaged clothing and pulled at a long, torn piece. He ripped the material away and threw the red-tainted cloth into the wind, where it floated into an updraft and then fluttered to the ground at their feet.
“At least the blood is not my own.” Nethan glanced over his shoulder to a group of soldiers that were as ragged as he was. “I must get back to my command. There may be strays that will come back.”
“You mean there may be more?” Tirzah didn’t have the mental stamina to go through another attack. It was time to mend. That she knew how to do.
“Possibly.” He gripped her by the shoulders. “That is why I am here, to protect you. We have made it this far. I won’t let anything happen to us now.” He almost smiled. At least, it was the closest expression to a smile that she had seen in days.
Unsure of his use of the word us, she remained quiet for a moment. Deciding she was too tired to mince words, she nodded.
He kissed her on the cheek and helped her mount Bluma. “I will find you when I am able to get away. Take care.” He squeezed her hand and she returned the gesture.
The comfort she gained just from the brief time with him made her ache to stay in his arms and deny the rest was happening. Tears sprang up again, and she willed them away. She needed to create an impassive demeanor that she had never before needed.
Sharing news of David’s death with her parents would be the hardest thing she had ever done, but there was somewhere she had to go first. She urged Bluma on and took the turn to Enan’s home. It was as most of the plebeian houses were—two square rooms with dirt floors and a flat roof, where most of his siblings slept on mats. The ceilings and front doors stooped low. This provided extra space needed for larger living areas.
Enan’s house was livable, but in bad condition. A side wall was gone, and part of the roof was crumbling, leaving the residents open to the elements. The rest of the house was intact and occupied. Tirzah entered through the open front door and heard the grinding of grain. As she rounded the corner, she saw Anna and Esther baking bread for those in need.
Anna ran to Tirzah, and they embraced. “Is your family well?” Her tender touch almost made Tirzah break again, but she inhaled deeply and returned their smiles.
Anna stared into Tirzah’s eyes. “I can only pray that they are. Dustan is missing, and of course we can’t know of Enan.”
Tirzah shook her head. “David is missing as well.” Tirzah couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone of David until she had first told her own family. She needed to hold her emotional state together in order to keep her family strong.
“Oh, Tirzah. He and Dustan are so young. Too young.” Anna handed Tirzah some water. “Where have you been?” She brushed the soot off Tirzah’s shoulders and rubbed her hands together to rid herself of the black ash.
Tirzah drank the lukewarm water and handed the cup to Anna. “I have been searching for David. Philip searched through the night, and my father was needed at the infirmary.”
“And your mother, is she well?” Esther asked.
“She’s fine, for now.” Esther lowered her head. “We need prayer, now more than ever.”
“I am going to the synagogue to worship. Will you come with me?” Tirzah didn’t want to go alone, and her mother’s presence only made her weak or impatient. These women would help her keep her strength.
Anna answered quickly, “Yes, we should all go. Mother, come with us.” Anna wiped her hands, and they followed Tirzah out the door to join a slow procession of others on their way to worship. This was the normal hour when they all gathered together for service. Tirzah couldn’t help feeling the whole scene was bizarre. She knew it was the Sabbath, but it was far from anything normal.
As they knelt among the others, candles were lit, and a song began, sung with voices low and wavering. Many stopped to weep, clasping their hands over their mouths to stifle their sobs. Grief had struck people of all classes, and now they came together to share that grief.
The stone carriers knelt next to the priests, and the merchants made room for the weavers. All were one, at least for the moment. Tirzah felt a light touch as Andrew and Martha knelt beside her.
Andrew withdrew his hand from Tirzah’s shoulder and bowed his head in prayer. His wrinkled eyelids quivered as he shut them. The stress lines on his forehead told her of his worries. Not only had he cared for many patients, but he had many more waiting for him. Tirzah was glad he had taken a few moments to restore himself before going back into the fray.
Tirzah started her prayer, remembering Nehemiah pleading when the Israelites faced the enemy as they built the wall of Jerusalem. O Lord God of heaven, the great and awesome God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love Him and keep His commandments, let Your ear be attentive and Your eyes open to hear the prayer of Your servant.
Tirzah’s family rose together and walked home in silence. Andrew looked exhausted from treating patients, and Martha’s demeanor was calm. Tirzah’s silence was due to the impending news she had to tell them. Tirzah watched Philip hammer a makeshift wall into place as they walked up to their home. The wood was flimsy but would give them privacy and some protection. Almost half of their home was burned beyond repair. They had been left with as much space as Enan and his large family had
in their two-room home.
Philip climbed down from the ladder, and Andrew stirred up the fire. Martha warmed her hands and stared into the blaze of red embers. Tirzah walked over near the flames and stared into them as she told her family of David.
“Nethan has brought news of David.” Tirza averted her eyes to the fire. She didn’t want to see their faces until she finished telling them.
“David’s body was found in the midst of others who fought a fierce battle with swords on foot.” She lowered her head. “Nethan said he died bravely.” Her quivering lip could no longer be concealed as she turned now to face them.
Martha wailed and beat Andrew’s chest, and Philip put his face in his hands and cried quietly. She had expected both of those reactions, but not her father’s.
He held Martha loosely; his gaze was staring out the window, fixed upon nothing. His face was sullen and lifeless, similar to the many corpses she had seen that morning. Tirzah had been ready for her mother to lose her mind over this loss, but now she wondered if it was her father she should have been praying for so fervently in the synagogue.
He began tending the injured just moments after the news of David. Tirzah helped him for as long as she could stand, but when her body gave way, she knew she would be of no more use to him. She hated leaving him, but he was finding distraction in his work. He was not yet grieving as he should, and his lack of emotion concerned her.
After what seemed hours, Tirzah found the strength to go to her bed. She hoped she could rest and continued a chant to clear her mind. “The Lord is my strength,” she repeated over and over again.
She lay in bed and closed her eyes with visions of Enan, his strong jaw and curls of brown encircling his tanned face, and jolted when Nethan’s face suddenly appeared, replacing Enan’s. She opened her eyes with a start and sat up in her bed. Was it wrong to think of Nethan?
Her reaction was one of guilt and made her pause.
Tirzah reached under her bed for paper and ink. Writing about her day made her feel closer to Enan. But this day would be one Tirzah didn’t know if she could bring herself to write about.
