by Lynn Austin
Ezra felt laughter bubbling up. Unable to control it, he laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. They truly were saved—and by a daughter of Abraham! Only the Almighty One could arrange such an astounding miracle. Below him, someone began singing a song of praise to the Almighty One. Others joined him, linking arms to dance in circles as they sang.
“I need to return before dark,” the sorcerer said.
“Wait. One more question. Will this new decree go into effect everywhere?”
“Yes. The news is being sent out on swift horses to all 127 provinces in the king’s empire.”
“And what will happen here in Babylon? Do you know? Will the local government and the Persian army help us?”
“Not directly. But the man who has replaced Haman wields a great deal of power. The nobles and satraps and governors will likely favor you Jews because they fear Mordecai.”
They feared Mordecai. And they feared the Jewish queen, the wife of King Xerxes. Unbelievable! “Thank you for bringing this news,” Ezra said as he helped the man step from the platform. “We’re very grateful to you.”
Ezra didn’t want to interrupt the celebration—the people must have a chance to rejoice—but in spite of this miracle, the reality of his community’s plight still concerned him. Later, as he sat with Jude and Asher after dinner, he shared his thoughts, leaning forward across the dining mat so his brothers’ wives wouldn’t hear him. “I didn’t want to diminish everyone’s hope earlier, but we’ll still need to fight for our lives. The new decree gives us the right to defend ourselves, but our enemies still have the right to kill us and ransack our homes and businesses under the first decree. And I’m sure many of them will still want to do that.”
Asher smiled as he watched his wife tend to the supper dishes, as if he saw hope now for his unborn child and was reluctant to return to despair. “Maybe our enemies will be afraid to attack us now that this second order has been issued.”
Jude leaned forward, as well, lowering his voice. “No, the Babylonians will still want to kill and pillage. Remember those dogs who’ve been eyeing our pottery works? They’ve been planning to steal it for months and won’t accept defeat. We need to start gathering weapons right away and prepare to defend ourselves.”
“But this edict is a miracle,” Asher said. “Can’t we trust God for more miracles?”
“Miracle or not,” Jude replied, “our enemies have had more time to prepare and strategize than we’ve had. If we’re not ready to fight back in eight months, we’ll die.” He turned to Ezra. “Do you think we can gather enough weapons and learn to use them in the few months remaining?”
“I have no idea.”
“We aren’t warriors—” Asher began.
“We’ll only have to fight for one day!” Jude said, then lowered his voice again as both wives looked up from their work. “We must be ready for their attack at sunset on the eve of the thirteenth of Adar, when both decrees go into effect. And we must be prepared to fight until the sun sets again the following evening.”
“Where are we going to get weapons?” Asher asked. He and Jude both looked to Ezra for the answer.
This ordeal wasn’t over for him. As the leader of his people, the task of arming his fellow Jews and training them in warfare would fall to him. “I’m not a warrior,” Ezra said, “but since they numbered me among the condemned, I’m willing to be numbered among those who will fight. The Almighty One helped Joshua fight the pagan Gentiles, and He’ll help us. We’ll need to forge weapons or purchase them and—”
“I know a Jewish blacksmith,” Jude interrupted. “A very skilled one. He lives in Casiphia, where we trade our pottery. He’s a Levite, in fact. I met him when I prayed in their house of assembly the last time I was there. There are dozens of Levite families in Casiphia.”
“Good. You need to go there right away and talk to him, Jude. I’ll talk to the other men tomorrow morning about raising funds. We’ll need money to purchase weapons and other supplies—”
“No, Ezra. You need to go to Casiphia, not me.” Jude glanced at Devorah before looking back at him. “I won’t leave my family alone and unprotected. You can’t imagine how it feels to know someone has been watching Devorah, lusting after her. You’ll have to go in my place.”
Ezra hesitated. Ever since hearing the good news, he had been imagining that he could return to his teaching and his studies.
“You’re our leader,” Jude continued. “Everyone depends on you, especially now that you’ve brought us this victory.”
“I did nothing. It was the Almighty One—”
“He gave you this role as our leader.”
“You can’t abandon us now,” Asher said.
Ezra leaned back with a sigh, running his hands through his hair. “But I’ve never traveled anywhere before. And I’ll be carrying money—”
“I’ll send a shipment of pottery with you. We’ll hire drivers. Asher knows the way.”
“It’s true, I do, but . . .” Asher looked at his wife, then exhaled. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
“I can get a shipment ready and hire drivers in a matter of days,” Jude said. “You can be on your way before the end of the week. Will that give you enough time to raise money for weapons?”
“I suppose so.” Ezra was reluctant to protest again, but the journey seemed daunting to him. What did he know about buying weapons, much less using them?
“We can bring the good news about the second decree to the Jews in Casiphia,” Asher said. “Maybe they haven’t heard it yet.” He grinned and lifted his cup of wine in salute. Jude lifted his, as well.
Ezra lifted his but didn’t drink. His head spun even without the wine. The Almighty One had answered their prayers! He would keep His promise of an everlasting covenant with the children of Abraham. They were no longer sentenced to die. The reality of their salvation astounded him, and he bowed his head and closed his eyes, feeling the same awe and gratitude that Moses must have felt when Pharaoh’s chariots and horses drowned in the sea.
Today, God had granted Ezra and the others a glimpse of His power and glory.
Chapter
9
CASIPHIA
Reuben held the sword to the grinding stone in his father’s dimly lit shop as he honed it into a sharpened blade. He and Abba worked every night until they were too tired to work any longer, secretly forging weapons so Casiphia’s Jewish community could go to their graves fighting. So far, they had used leftover scraps and bits of metal, but Reuben knew they were nearly out of materials.
Abba said he prayed while he worked, and tonight Reuben tried to do the same. His foremost prayer was that he and his family would survive somehow. But as the weeks passed and the thirteenth day of Adar drew closer, Reuben began praying for courage. For strength to disguise his fear and face death bravely. Most of all, he needed to control his tears and the sickening nausea that overwhelmed him every time he thought about dying. He was a man now, and he wanted to be like his father, strong in body and in heart. He wanted to make his father proud.
Reuben bent to his task, straining to see in the flickering lamplight, the grinding noise jarring his nerves. Then along with the sounds of hammering and grinding, he thought he heard the rumble of wagon wheels. He stopped and raised his head to listen. The rumbling halted in the street out front. He turned to his father. Abba held his finger to his lips in warning before scooping up the weapons they were making.
“Go see who it is,” Abba whispered. “Stall for time while I hide these.”
Reuben removed his leather apron and walked to the front of the open-air forge, carrying an oil lamp. The wagon parked outside was loaded with clay pots. The driver and the two men standing beside the load of pottery were Jews wearing kippahs and beards and fringes on their robes. Reuben felt relieved but still wary. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“Good evening. My name is Ezra ben Seraiah, and this is my brother Asher,” one of the strangers said. His fair skin had never
seen the sun, his smooth, elegant hands had no calluses or cuts, no dirt beneath his nails. He was neither a potter nor a caravan driver—although the younger man beside him had the lean, sun-browned look of a laborer. And they did resemble each other. “We’ve come from Babylon looking for a blacksmith named David, from the tribe of Levi. Do you know where we might find him?”
“My father’s name is David. And he owns this smithy,” Reuben said. “But he’s busy. Why do you need to see him?”
“We bring very good news that your father will be happy to hear.” Ezra’s smile seemed kind and genuine. “Has the Jewish community here in Casiphia heard about King Xerxes’ second decree?”
“No . . . there’s a second decree?”
“Yes, and it’s good news, son. Don’t worry. Your father and the others will want to hear about it right away. And we have a business proposition to make with your father.” The two men seemed trustworthy and sincere, but Reuben was afraid to hope for good news.
“Wait here, please. I’ll go get him.” He left the lamp with his visitors and made his way through the darkened forge, slipping behind the partition. Abba was just closing the crate, covering it with a length of burlap sacking to hide it.
“Who is it, Reuben?”
“Two Jewish men from Babylon with a driver and a wagon full of pottery. They asked for you by name. They said they have good news about a second decree from King Xerxes.”
Abba hesitated for a moment. “I’ll talk to them. Grab that other lamp.”
Reuben followed his father outside where the stranger introduced himself again.
“I’m Ezra ben Seraiah, and this is my brother Asher. We weren’t sure if you’ve heard the news from Susa yet, but King Xerxes has issued a second decree, giving us the right to arm ourselves and fight back on the thirteenth of Adar.” It took Reuben a moment to realize what he’d just said. Abba seemed to have trouble comprehending it, too.
“Wait. Say that again, please.”
“Our people will survive after all. The Almighty One heard our prayers, and now the Persian king is allowing us to defend ourselves. We’re no longer sentenced to die! We have the right to kill anyone who tries to destroy us.”
Abba grinned and clapped Reuben on the back. “Did you hear that, son? We’re saved!” Reuben could only nod, too overwhelmed to speak.
“We’ve come to buy weapons,” Ezra said, lowering his voice. “A fight will ensue, and we need your services as a blacksmith.”
Abba didn’t hesitate. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” He beckoned to the men, leading them through his forge to the little alcove behind the partition. He opened the crate and showed them the weapons that he and Reuben had made. “The Jewish community here in Casiphia was already planning to fight to the death,” Abba said, “even though we were outnumbered and couldn’t possibly win.”
The younger stranger lifted a sword from the crate. “These are beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Abba said. “Unfortunately, I’m nearly out of materials. I can’t make many more.”
“I understand,” Ezra said. “We took up a collection to pay the cost of your labor and materials. We can raise more money, if needed.”
Abba grinned a second time. “I’ll put all my other orders on hold and start right away. But listen,” he said, clapping his hands. “This news is too good to keep to ourselves. Reuben, run to your Uncle Hashabiah’s house, and tell him to gather all of the men in the house of assembly, right away. Go! In the meantime, have you eaten anything?” he asked the men.
“We don’t want to trouble you.”
“I would be honored to have you as my guests. My wife can fix you something to eat while we wait for the men to assemble. Go, Reuben! Hurry!”
Reuben finally got his legs to move. He raced as fast as he as could through the dark, narrow streets to his uncle’s house near the assembly hall, wondering why life was so chaotic. One day the king sentenced him to death, and the next day he decreed that he could fight back. Reuben was still afraid to believe it, still afraid that he and everyone he loved would die. Why did the Almighty One do such crazy things?
He delivered the message to Uncle Hashabiah—who seemed afraid to believe it, too—then ran home again. The strangers from Babylon sat in Reuben’s courtyard, eating the hasty meal that Mama had prepared. “We’ve been praying for the Almighty One’s mercy,” Ezra was saying, “and He answered our prayers.”
“It’s not a very good answer, though,” Reuben blurted out. Everyone turned to him. “We’re still in danger, aren’t we? We still could die.”
“You’re right,” Ezra said. He didn’t seem surprised or offended by Reuben’s outburst. “Do you remember the story from the Torah when our enemies backed us into an impossible corner at the Red Sea? Pharaoh’s chariots were behind us and there seemed to be no escape?”
“I know the story.”
“The Almighty One came to our aid and parted the sea—but we still had to step between the walls of water. We had to take a risk and trust that God wouldn’t let us all drown. It’s the same now. God has parted the waters and begun our deliverance, but we have to move forward in faith.”
“Rebbe Ezra is a Torah teacher,” Abba explained.
“The most brilliant one in Babylon,” Asher added.
“And I understand that you’re Levites,” Ezra said, breaking off another piece of bread. “Asher and I also descend from the tribe of Levi through the line of Aaron. Our ancestors were priests.”
“Tell me,” Abba said as he refilled their cups, “do you ever wish we could return to Jerusalem and serve in His temple?”
“Yes, of course. But I’m sure you know that immigration to Judah was halted sixty years ago. We’re not allowed to return.”
Abba grew still as he gazed into the distance, in the direction they faced every day when they prayed—toward Jerusalem. “If the king ever makes another decree like the one King Cyrus gave, I’ll be the first one to leave for Jerusalem. My greatest wish is for my son to serve his true calling as a Levite.”
Abba’s words surprised Reuben. This was the first time he had ever mentioned such a wish. “But I like being a blacksmith,” Reuben said.
“And you’re becoming a very skilled one,” Abba said, gripping Reuben’s shoulder. “He’s not quite thirteen,” he told Ezra, “but he’ll be a great help to me in the coming months as we forge weapons for you. But my wish for you, Reuben, is for something greater—that you could serve the Almighty One the way you were born to do.”
Reuben looked away. This wasn’t the time to tell Abba that he wanted to fight, to use the weapons they’d made to kill his enemies. If Abba ever asked him what his greatest wish was, Reuben would say it was to become a man of courage and strength—to be a warrior. To make sure that no one could harm him or his family ever again.
Chapter
10
BABYLON
Devorah’s stomach rumbled with hunger. How much longer would she have to wait to eat? Evening prayers were becoming longer and longer, and so were the practice drills that followed. The yard of Jude’s pottery works now sported targets so the archers could hone their skills, as well as straw-filled dummies for the swordsmen. Jude channeled his worry and fear into action, and even Ezra was learning to fight. Devorah had no such release, and her helplessness frustrated her. Having no control over her life had long been her worst fear. She couldn’t even take walks with the girls like she used to do, or visit the clay pits to watch Jude work. She could pray, of course, but that didn’t satisfy her need to do something.
Jude worried for her safety, but what was she supposed to do with her fear for him? He could be killed. Asher’s wife wept over the possibility of losing her husband every time Devorah saw her. “Aren’t you worried for Jude?” Miriam had asked just this morning.
“Of course I am,” she’d replied. “But I have to be courageous for my daughters. Instead of crying, I pray for Jude’s safety.”
“I have
nightmares that Asher dies. I don’t know what I would do without him. I know we’re no longer under a death sentence, but that doesn’t guarantee that we’ll all live.”
Devorah pushed thoughts like that from her mind. “Hasn’t God already heard our prayers? He took an impossible situation and provided a way for us to fight back. We have to keep trusting Him.”
“I wish I had your faith,” Miriam said.
“You can start by praying instead of worrying. And pray for poor Ezra. He’s going to fight, too, can you believe it? We should be worried for him. He isn’t as strong as Jude and Asher. And Ezra doesn’t have the temperament it takes to fight like our husbands do.” But for all of Devorah’s efforts, Miriam’s fear remained unchanged.
The sky was growing dark. The men couldn’t practice in the dark, could they? Devorah fed Abigail and Michal their supper and put them to bed. Afterward, she shifted the pots of food around on the hearth—too close to the fire and the food would stick to the pot and burn, too far from the embers and it would grow cold. Either way, it would serve the men right for taking so long.
Devorah’s life had changed so drastically in only a few short months. Would it settle down again after the thirteenth of Adar, and return to the way it had been? She hoped so. But after a trial of faith like this one, she would never view life the same or take her family for granted. For now, the hardest thing to live with was the uncertainty. No one knew if their enemies would still attack them or how strong their forces would be. Or how well her own people could fight back. As Miriam had said, they might not face execution, but there was no guarantee of survival, either.
At last she heard Jude’s deep voice echoing through the narrow lanes as he neared home. “There you are! At last,” she said as he walked through the gate. She longed to greet him with a hug in spite of the sweat that ran down his face and soaked the front of his tunic, but Ezra was with him, and she and Jude had agreed to refrain from showing affection in front of him.
