Keepers of the Covenant

by Lynn Austin

  Laughter. She heard laughter, and allowed herself to exhale before stowing the shovel in its proper place and running to fetch water for the donkey. When she rounded the corner with the jug, Abba and her brothers were standing in front of the house with not one donkey but three, the animals’ backs swaying beneath towering loads. Amina ran with the heavy jar and poured water into the trough. In no time, the donkeys lapped up what she’d given them, and she hurried to fetch more. Sayfah brought water for the men while Mama fussed over Amina’s older brothers, ruffling their damp hair and lavishing them with the affection and attention that Amina never received.

  “Unload the animals,” Abba told her brothers after they’d all quenched their thirst. “Carry everything inside. Carefully!”

  “What is all this?” Mama asked. “What did you bring?”

  Abba grinned. “Weapons. The most beautiful swords and spearheads and arrow tips I’ve ever seen in my life. The men of Ashdod are superb craftsmen.” Amina’s brothers untied the awkward bundles, stowing them in the storeroom alongside jars of wheat and olive oil and grain. She knew the sacks were heavy because it took both brothers, working together, to carry each one. At last the donkeys’ backs were bare.

  “I met with the leaders of several other villages along the way,” Abba told Mama as Sayfah filled his cup a third time. “They have some good ideas for carrying out the king’s decree and executing the Jews efficiently. I’m having a meeting here tonight so I can tell the others what I’ve learned and show them the weapons.”

  So that’s what Abba’s journey had been about. Amina hadn’t known why he’d left or where he’d gone. Nor had he mentioned killing the Jews since the night of the celebration. But it hadn’t been just a bad dream after all. Killing had been on Abba’s mind all this time, which meant he still planned to kill Hodaya, the kind Jewish woman from the marketplace.

  The men were hungry after their long journey, and Amina helped Mama prepare a meal and serve it right away. Abba was still in good spirits as he sat down to eat, and he called for Mama to join him in the courtyard, saying he had news to discuss. Amina and her sister stood listening in the shadows, ready to serve him if he called for them.

  “I talked to the leader of my brother’s village just outside Jerusalem,” Abba said. “He’s very interested in taking Sayfah as a wife for one of his sons.” Sayfah gave a startled cry.

  “Shh . . . Sayfah, he’ll hear you!” Amina whispered. Her sister gripped Amina’s arm so tightly it hurt.

  “But I don’t want to get married!”

  “Shh!”

  “She will marry his third son, not his firstborn,” Abba continued. “But even so, he will be a very rich man in just a few more months. There’s a wealth of gold in the Jewish temple in Jerusalem, and the men from Abdel’s village plan to claim it after they execute the Jews. There will be plenty of gold for everyone.”

  “Does this man know he will have to wait another year for Sayfah?” Mama asked. “She’s only eleven and isn’t a woman yet.”

  “He knows. But it will be a good arrangement for both of us. The deal is done.”

  “No!” Sayfah moaned. She leaned her head against Amina’s shoulder as she burst into tears, nearly knocking her over.

  “Sayfah . . . shh!” Amina begged. “Abba will be furious if he hears you.” And he might take out his fury on both of them. Sayfah covered her mouth to muffle her sobs. She and Amina both knew that marriage meant becoming a slave to your new mother-in-law and obeying your husband’s every whim or risking a beating. The sisters had whispered about all these things as they lay in bed at night, and they were both terrified of marriage. As difficult as their lives were as daughters, they could become much worse with a demanding husband and a mother-in-law to obey. Marriage meant leaving home and each other. And having babies.

  “What about Amina?” Mama asked. “Have you made a decision about her?” Amina held her breath, waiting to hear Abba’s reply.

  “Not yet. I’ll give her one more year to make up her mind to walk without limping, and if she refuses, I’ll be forced to do something about it. No one pays a dowry for a cripple.”

  Tears burned Amina’s eyes, but she forced them back. Abba hated any sign of weakness. She silently repeated the Jewish weaver’s words so she wouldn’t forget them: “God created you to do something special that they can’t do.”

  “Sayfah!” Abba suddenly called out. “Sayfah, come here.”

  She stared at Amina, her eyes wide with fear. “What should I do?”

  “Dry your eyes,” Amina whispered. “Hurry! You have to go to him.”

  “I don’t want to! I’m scared.”

  “Sayfah, get in here!” he called again.

  “He’ll see that I’ve been crying, and he’ll beat me,” Sayfah whispered as she wiped her face. It was true. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks streaked with tears—and a respectful daughter should respond with gratitude and joy to such an important announcement from her father.

  Amina let out the breath she’d been holding. “I’ll go. I’ll tell him you went to the latrine. But don’t take too long.” She stepped out into the courtyard, trying to walk straight and tall, trying not to limp. But her knees wobbled with fear, making it nearly impossible. She stopped after only a few steps. “Sayfah went to relieve herself,” she said, looking down at her feet. “She won’t be long.”

  Sayfah entered the courtyard a minute later, a stiff smile on her face as she approached their father. She stopped several feet away, staring at the ground, not at him. “Yes, Abba?”

  “Come here and let me have a look at you. . . . Turn around,” he said, twirling his finger in a circle. Sayfah obeyed. “Not bad . . . not bad . . . You will be a beauty like your mother.” Amina had always envied her sister’s wavy black hair and wide, brown eyes. Sayfah’s back was straight, her legs long and shapely, her skin a golden, tawny color. But even from where Amina stood, she could see her sister’s chin quivering with fear.

  “I’ve found a husband for you. We’ll begin the negotiations as soon as this business with the Jews is finished.”

  Amina held her breath, silently willing Sayfah to answer quietly and respectfully, not revealing her emotions. But Sayfah’s fear of marriage proved stronger than her caution. “Abba, no!” she said with a wail. “I don’t want to leave home and get married. Please don’t make me, Abba, please!”

  His anger was swift and terrible. Amina saw him pounce, and she ran from the courtyard to hide in the goat pen, plugging her ears to drown out the sounds of Abba’s blows and Sayfah’s pitiful screams. They seemed to last a long, long time.

  Amina held her sister in her arms later that night until she cried herself to sleep. But Amina couldn’t sleep. What had Abba meant when he’d said he’d be forced to do something if she didn’t stop limping? With all the drama that had taken place in her home that evening, she had forgotten all about Abba’s meeting with the other village men until she heard them gathering in the courtyard. Her brothers carried the bundled weapons from the storeroom to show the other men. Amina lay awake, listening to the faint clanking of metal, the murmurs of approval.

  “We bought enough weapons for everyone,” Abba said. “And I talked with other village leaders about their plans. Most of them plan to surround each Jewish settlement ahead of time so no one can escape.”

  “Herd them like sheep into a pen,” someone said.

  “Jerusalem’s walls and gates have never been rebuilt,” Abba continued. “The Jews wouldn’t be able to defend the city even if they were allowed to.”

  “Is it true that the temple treasuries hold a wealth of gold and silver?” someone asked.

  “It’s true. And we’re welcome to join that fight once the killing is finished in Bethlehem.”

  Amina stuffed her fingers into her ears and buried her head beneath the covers so she wouldn’t hear any more. She fell asleep to muffled murmurs and laughter.

  The next morning, Amina and her mother walk
ed to Bethlehem for market day. Abba made Sayfah stay home, her punishment for showing disrespect. “Feast your eyes on all of the Jews’ goods,” he told them before they left. “Remember, it’ll all be ours very soon.”

  The women from Amina’s village acted friendly toward the Jews as they bartered for goods in the market square, but Amina knew it was a lie. She let the other children run ahead of her as she searched the rows of booths for Hodaya’s. The piles of beautiful woolen cloth were easy to find, the weaving so much finer and more colorful than anything Amina would ever wear.

  “Well, good morning, Amina,” Hodaya said when she saw her. “I wondered if I would see you here today.”

  Amina ducked behind one of the piles where she wouldn’t be seen. “I have to tell you something,” she whispered. She glanced all around, her heart beating like birds’ wings. “The men in our village are going to kill you. I heard my father and the others planning it. Abba bought swords and weapons and—”

  “I know, little one. I know.” Hodaya’s gentle smile faded as tears filled her eyes. “We know all about the king’s decree.”

  “Are . . . are you scared?”

  “Not so much for myself, but I’m terrified for my grandchildren. The youngest is about your age, and I know how frightened she’ll be. I hate to think that her short life will end in fear. I’ve lived a good, long life, but the children—” She couldn’t finish. Amina reached to touch her arm as Hodaya wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry,” the older woman said after a moment. “I’m trying to remain brave for their sakes, but as the weeks race by and the day draws closer and closer . . . sometimes it’s very difficult.” She blew her nose in her handkerchief.

  “You need to run away,” Amina whispered. “I don’t want Abba to kill you.” But when she saw Hodaya’s crutch propped alongside her, she knew the elderly woman wouldn’t be able to escape. Hodaya bent to give Amina a long, tight hug. Affection was so rare for Amina that she soaked it up like butter melting into warm bread.

  “It’s very sweet of you to be concerned for me,” Hodaya said. “You have a beautiful, tender heart.”

  “I hate my father for wanting to kill you,” she said when they finally pulled apart.

  “No, don’t hate him. Killing us isn’t his idea. The order came from the Persian king, and there isn’t anything we can do about it.”

  “Can’t you hide?”

  “I’m not sure. The men in our village have been praying about it, and some people are talking about escaping into the desert.”

  “You should go. And if you have trouble walking, maybe you could ride a donkey.”

  “Yes, sweet child. I will. I ride a donkey whenever we travel to God’s temple in Jerusalem. We’ve been going there as often as we can to pray and beg for His mercy. I have friends there who are priests, and they believe that our God is going to save us. I don’t know how He’ll do it, and I know it looks hopeless right now, but they’re telling us to trust God.”

  Amina heard laughter and running feet, and she ducked down to hide as the other children ran past. “Aren’t you playing with them today?” Hodaya asked. “And where’s your sister? . . . What was her name?”

  “Sayfah. Abba wouldn’t let her come. He’s punishing her because she told him she doesn’t want to get married.”

  “Married! How old is she?”

  “Eleven. Abba chose a husband for her from another village, and she has to marry him as soon as she turns twelve. He says her husband will be rich after—” After they kill the Jews. Amina put her hand over her mouth, regretting what she’d been about to say.

  Hodaya pulled Amina close for a moment and kissed her forehead. “You are a dear, sweet girl. Don’t let the ugliness of life ever change that.”

  “I need to go.” If she didn’t, she would start crying, and Mama would ask why.

  “Thank you for coming to warn me,” Hodaya said. “And may God bless you for your kindness.”

  “I . . . I hope I see you again.” Amina stood on tiptoe to kiss Hodaya’s soft cheek, then hurried from the booth, her heart breaking. When she reached the end of the lane, she turned to look back at her friend one last time.

  Chapter

  8

  BABYLON

  Near the end of another disheartening day, Ezra stood before all the people in the house of assembly to lead evening prayers. Night would fall while they prayed and another day would end, bringing them one day closer to their execution. He cleared his throat, feeling inadequate, wondering if he would ever become accustomed to standing here as their leader. “This evening, I want to encourage you with this prophecy from Jeremiah,” he began. He was desperate to feel the promise conveyed in the prophet’s words, desperate to disguise his own growing hopelessness. Only eight months left to live. Thirty-two weeks. “‘This is what the Lord says, he who appoints the sun to shine by day, who decrees the moon and stars to shine by night, who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar—the Lord Almighty is his name: “Only if these decrees vanish from my sight,” declares the Lord, “will the descendants of Israel ever cease to be a nation before me.”’”

  Ezra paused to glance up for a moment, and his knees went weak. The Babylonian sorcerer who had brought the devastating news of King Xerxes’ decree stood in the rear doorway. Ezra gripped the podium, trying to draw enough air to speak. The assembled men turned to see what Ezra was staring at, and when Jude spotted the sorcerer, he quickly pushed his way toward him. “You’re back! Is there more news?”

  The old man showed him a square of parchment. “The king issued another decree.”

  Ezra longed to sit down. He didn’t think he could bear more bad news. He took a shaky breath and said, “Please come forward and share it with us.” The sorcerer hobbled to the front of the long, narrow hall to climb the bimah. Even after all of Ezra’s hard work these past few months, studying with his colleagues day and night, praying with the Jewish community, showing them God’s promises, their hope seemed tenuous, their faith as fragile as cobwebs. Were his efforts going to be undone by another decree?

  The hall fell still as the Babylonian handed the parchment to Ezra. “This just arrived from Susa. I brought it right away.”

  Ezra was afraid to read it. He wanted to know the gist of it first, to soften the blow. “What does it say? Does it cancel the first decree?”

  “No, that cannot happen. But Haman is no longer in power. The king executed him.”

  Excited murmurs chased through the crowd. A sliver of hope made Ezra’s heart pound. “Executed! Do you know why?”

  “We’ve heard rumors, but no one knows for certain. The first decree cannot be changed or repealed, but the king has issued a new one. Read it.”

  Ezra swallowed and began to read. “‘By order of King Xerxes, the Jews in every city throughout his kingdom are hereby granted the right to assemble and protect themselves. . . . ’” He paused to read the words again, his heart beating faster. They had the right to protect themselves! His voice grew louder as he continued reading. “‘The Jews have the right to destroy, kill, and annihilate any armed force of any nationality or province that might attack them and their women and children, and to plunder the property of their enemies.’” He looked up, repeating the news. “We have been granted the right of self-defense! A miracle! ‘The day appointed for the Jews to do this in all of the provinces of King Xerxes’ reign is the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, Adar.’”

  The room erupted into chaos. “What kind of craziness is this?” Jude shouted above the noise.

  “What does it mean?” someone else called out.

  Ezra held up his hands, attempting to quiet the crowd. “Can you explain this to us?” he asked the Babylonian.

  “I know it doesn’t seem to make sense,” he replied. “But those of us in the governor’s palace interpret it this way: Since the king’s first edict can’t be rescinded, he’s now granting all Jews the right to strike back and defend themselves. As you know, the first decree didn’t allow for
self-defense.”

  “So we’re saved from execution?” Ezra asked. He was afraid to believe it, afraid to hope.

  “Not exactly. . . . No document written in the king’s name and sealed with his ring may be revoked, but a new law can go into effect alongside it, and this new one—”

  “Allows us defend ourselves!” Jude shouted. “We don’t have to die after all!”

  Another great cheer went up. The deafening noise filled the hall. Ezra leaned against the podium, weak with relief. “Praise God! Our prayers have been answered,” he murmured, trying to control his emotions. “O Lord, forgive us for doubting your mercy.”

  Everyone began talking at once, laughing and weeping and cheering. Ezra looked down at the decree again and saw a new signature in place of Haman’s: Mordecai son of Jair, son of Shimei, the son of Kish. He read it a second time, then a third, unable to believe his eyes. These names were Jewish. This man was a descendant of King Saul from the tribe of Benjamin—Jewish!

  He turned to the Babylonian sorcerer, pointing to the parchment. “This name . . . Mordecai. Does he serve in Haman’s place?”

  “Yes.”

  Tears filled Ezra’s eyes but he no longer cared. “Listen!” he shouted above the noise. “Listen! The Almighty One has not only heard our prayers, but He has replaced our enemy Haman, with a son of Abraham!” Once again, deafening cheers filled the hall. Ezra moved closer to the sorcerer to ask another question. “You said there were rumors concerning the reason for the king’s change of heart. What are they?”

  “Mind you, they are only rumors, and they may turn out to be false, but . . .” He moved closer, cupping his hand near Ezra’s ear to be heard above the joyful din. “They say that the queen herself is Jewish.” Ezra could only stare at the man in astonishment. He’d guessed that Mordecai might be a Jew, but the queen, as well?

  “The queen?” he repeated. “The Persian king’s wife?”

  “Yes—according to the rumors she is related, somehow, to this Mordecai. If it’s true, then King Xerxes issued this new decree to spare his queen’s life and the lives of her people.”