THE CHOSEN : The Prophet: Historical Fiction (The Chosen Trilogy Book 2)

by Shlomo Kalo

  “Anyway, this man walks the streets of Jerusalem, and speaks out in a clear and resolute voice, untainted by arrogance, and he turns to the people who follow him, and there are many who follow him, and he addresses them sometimes with stern words of reproof and sometimes with words of consolation and encouragement. And he always emphasises that it is not he who speaks but God, your God, speaking through him. And his words are an awesome warning – if the Jews do not learn to manage their affairs properly and proceed in the ways of reason – Jerusalem will be ruined and set ablaze. More than this – he demands there must be no revolt against the King of Babylon whom He, God that is, your God, calls ‘my servant’ – meaning, the one who does His will. And the reaction to this man, whose name by the way is Jeremiah, the priest from Anathoth, is entirely predictable. People respond to his conduct and the message that he brings in the traditional and time-honoured fashion: beating him with their fists and spitting in his face, waving sticks at him and pelting him with stones, yelling with the righteous anger of all patriots, ‘Death to the traitor!’ and leaving him to lie, barely conscious or not conscious at all, slumped at the roadside or in a corner of the marketplace. And there are indeed some who try to shield him from his assailants, but they are very few, and most of them old men, and their way of defending him is to stage public debates which, as you know, do more harm than good.

  “Returning to that innocent youth, to whom I am tied by that reciprocal family code, attention should be drawn to something else that he said, an uncouth remark but vivid and significant for all that:

  “He told me he had met a number of Egyptians, leaders among their own people, who disguise themselves as traders and simple folk and try to look like Jews in every respect, but their diction gives them away, as does their clothing. They are not used to the Jewish mantle, but to robes that flap in the wind, and when they try to move about in the tight confines of the mantle, it looks ridiculous and it betrays their origins. These Egyptians come and go in the court of King Zedekiah and this, like everything in the third and final part of my story, should engender surprise and raise questions and above all, strike fear into the heart. For it seems, and Jeremiah, the priest from Anathoth, confirms this wholeheartedly – darkness is descending on Jerusalem and a bloodbath is in store for Judah. And there is one question that is always asked before something happens that is supposed to happen – is this bloodbath inevitable?”

  “No,” he replied, “this bloodbath is not inevitable. There is no such thing as an inevitable bloodbath. As for the means of preventing it, it is the same as for any bloodshed anywhere in the world, past, present or future. Only one method is effective, no other.”

  “And that is?” Denur-Shag pressed him.

  “Adherence to values.”

  “And what does that mean, ‘adherence to values’?” Denur-Shag wanted to know.

  “Devotion to the truth and the truthful.”

  “In other words, if people respect the truth in all things, in thought, in word and in deed – that is enough to avert a massacre?”

  “It is enough!”

  “Perhaps an exiled Jew, one who is in favour with King Nebuchadnezzar, could talk with those Jews who remain in their homeland, drinking their good wine and eating their sweet figs – and persuade them to mend their ways.”

  “If Jeremiah from Anathoth, through whom God speaks, failed in his mission – could an exiled Jew do any better?”

  Denur-Shag pondered for a while, ignoring what remained of the refreshments, and thinking something through, weighing it inwardly at some length and finally asking in a faint voice:

  “Why are the Jews such a stiff-necked people?”

  He answered him calmly, although with a hint of bitterness in his voice:

  “Because of the arrogance with which they are infected. They see themselves as standing above all other peoples and races and nations, and as long as they cannot cure themselves of this infection – disaster awaits them.”

  “But you are not like that,” Denur-Shag protested, “nor are those three friends of yours!”

  “Because our faith is the true faith,” he explained.

  “And the faith of your compatriots is not true faith?”

  “Where there is arrogance, there is no room for true faith.”

  “And what is to be done to combat this fatal arrogance?”

  “True faith is the only answer.”

  Denur-Shag rose heavily from his seat, shook his outstretched hand in silence and for a moment looked like a very old man, bowed under the weight of his years, defeated by life.

  “Where are you rushing off to?” he addressed him kindly, still holding his hand and wishing he could give him some encouragement, however fleeting.

  Denur-Shag looked up at him, and the expression of his face changed; the dejection dissolved, and a faint but steady light was ignited in the depths of his eyes.

  “The Jewish princess is due to arrive at any moment! Anyone wanting to greet her had better hurry and make the necessary arrangement. And something else I shall tell you – there is hope for the Jewish people, and I wish there were just a small portion of it for the Chaldean people!”

  “In what do you see this hope?” he asked.

  “In that Jeremiah, the man of Anathoth, and in you and in those who are like you! Be well.”

  Without Any Connecting Thread

  He could not believe what his eyes were seeing and his ears hearing. Nevertheless, it seemed to him there could be no sight more natural, more anchored in reality than this, no sound more familiar and responsive to his expectations than the voice he heard. On the one hand – it was as if the world had turned upside down and the new, without any connecting thread to what had gone before, was revealed to him in all the glory of its youth, while on the other – it seemed nothing had changed or was even capable of changing; the past being the present, and the present never deviating in the slightest degree from what used to be.

  She stood before him, straight-backed, her long face pale, her forehead clear, a little arched, so pure it might never have been polluted by a deviant thought, or a less than exalted notion. And her eyes…yes, in her eyes there had been a change though it was barely perceptible. More precisely – the nature of the change was perceptible but not its extent. The luminous depths, familiar from days gone by, no longer knew any limit but flowed freely, from one eternity to another. The dark blue, that transported anyone seeing it beyond the furthest Heaven, was darker still, sometimes turning to the young violet of dusk.

  The eyes resembled twin pools, deep, calm and smooth, drawing serenity and steadfast assurance from an unflagging source, and in the clarity of this source there was an astonishing wealth of tenderness, nobility and compassion.

  It was Azariah who accompanied her to the threshold of his house, and after a firm handshake said awkwardly:

  “I shall return later,” and turned away.

  The two of them shook hands and for a moment it seemed their hands would never be parted; then they parted them and gazed into one another’s eyes with a look that was sincere, radiant, proud.

  He began to speak, surprised at the sound of his calm, controlled voice:

  “I very much hope that Babylon will be to your taste. It isn’t Judah and it isn’t Jerusalem!” he said, and heard her voice for the first time in eight years:

  “God is everywhere!” – and her limpid voice was like a hymn of praise, of which he too was a part.

  He repeated after her with a kind of joyful submission:

  “God is everywhere!”

  “I bring blessings and greetings from your mother, from your sisters and brother…”

  “The baby!” he cried eagerly.

  She smiled, and the high-ceilinged reception hall was swamped with light.

  “He’s eight years old!” she reminded him and added: “They asked me to tell you that they’re proud of you.”

  “Why should they be proud of me?” he asked.

&n
bsp; “Among other things,” she answered him, “for interpreting the dream of the King of Babylon. Your mother says you are following in the path of our forefathers, who were commanded by God to make His will known to Jews and Gentiles alike.”

  “She’s exaggerating!” he protested, in an attempt to dampen something of the admiration in her voice, which was indeed restrained but clearly perceptible. “What’s your opinion?” he asked.

  “What she says is the truth!” she replied simply, in her old style. “My mother’s proud of you too,” she added, “as are many of the citizens of Jerusalem…” Her voice quavered and her eyes fell.

  “And there are also some who are not proud but angry,” he suggested, and she confirmed it.

  “There are indeed.” Her voice was steady again.

  He suggested they go to the veranda, and she followed him.

  He sat down at the table as he had sat a little while before with Denur-Shag, noting inwardly that the strange, unfamiliar sensation of shining light, grace and quiet pleasure was taking over his entire being.

  When the slave had served refreshments and a jug of warm honey-water, he resumed:

  “I have heard about Jeremiah the prophet – how they are conspiring against him and humiliating him, how he has been beaten and persecuted!”

  “It is true,” she said, and suddenly the soft radiance of her eyes captivated him and he was all exaltation. He remembered the words of Adoniah, that one glimpse of her would be enough to persuade the worst of felons to mend his ways and repent.

  My Father in Heaven, my God – he spoke to his heart, which was quivering with a rapture such as he had never known – Am I worthy of this grace?

  And he heard her voice, offering strength and solace:

  “Jeremiah the prophet has heard about you, too. When my uncle, my mother’s brother, told him I was going down to Babylon to marry you, he took the trouble to come to us and he sat in our house three days and two nights, most of the time shut away in a room with the door locked, not saying a word and barely eating. Until finally he turned to me and said:

  ‘Convey the blessing of God to your future husband and my blessing too, and tell him to be joyful and be glad, because his mission is ordained by God, a source of wonder and delight, and all the humble among my people will rejoice in him!’ And seeing the look of astonishment on my face, the prophet added: ‘Despite the contempt, and the ingratitude, the beatings and the abuse, the banishment and imprisonment to which the envoy of God is subjected, there shines in his heart the eternal joy of the awareness of God and the knowledge of Him! The reward of the envoy of God – is God Himself!’”

  “That is indeed the truth!” he declared warmly, pouring out some of the honey-water for her and for himself, and taking only a tiny morsel of the bread. She asked him why he was abstaining from the lavish spread that was laid out on the table and he explained that earlier that morning he had been visited by a dear friend, the one who informed him of the imminent return of the delegation and her arrival – and they had broken their fast together.

  “He wanted to cheer you up,” she remarked casually, like him taking a small piece of bread and drinking thirstily from the liquid – light and refreshing and still retaining its warmth.

  “He wouldn’t miss an opportunity to gladden the heart of his friend!” he agreed, and smiled at her, a deep smile that she took in without raising her eyes, and her pale cheeks flushed slightly.

  “Do you remember the bears?” he asked.

  “I remember,” she replied, looking up and calmly meeting his gaze. “Do you remember how many cubs there were?”

  “Three!” he smiled again.

  “And the colour of their fur?” she went on to ask, her voice light and vibrant with youth, as well as a sense of good-natured mischief.

  He racked his brains, thought it over, seeing in his mind’s eye the cubs and their mother… all standing there before him as if alive, and he even inhaled the peculiar balm of the air in the Jerusalem hills, but the colour of the fur of the cubs had vanished from his eyes.

  “No,” he looked up, admitting defeat. “I can’t even remember if there was any difference between them. Do you?”

  “One of them was very light, almost yellow, his brother was dark brown, and the youngest of all had tufts of brown fur on a lighter background.” She laughed a full-throated, resonant laugh, pleasing to the ear, melodious as the laughter of a child.

  They sat in silence, and the longer the silence lasted, so they felt the pleasure bridging the gap between them, redolent with faith and strong in its unflagging purity.

  “How do you like the idea of bringing the marriage ceremony forward?” he asked, his tone calm and harmonious.

  She answered him in the same tone:

  “As you wish!”

  “Would you like to see the house?” he asked.

  “Gladly!”

  He showed her round the two-storey house placed at his disposal, with its sixteen rooms and two halls, a large hall on the ground floor and a smaller one above. And then he showed her the seven-roomed apartment set aside for her, and introduced her two Chaldean chambermaids who greeted her with a bow. A spacious bed chamber linked her rooms to his.

  “Do you approve of the arrangement of rooms?” he asked finally, as they sat facing one another in the parlour that was now hers.

  “Very much so!” she answered him sincerely, and added: “Whatever pleases you, pleases me sevenfold. As it has been for as long as I remember!”

  “I could say the same thing of myself,” he smiled, and his smile again brought a flush to her cheeks: “Whatever pleases you, pleases me sevenfold!” He bowed lightly to underline his words.

  “Your friend Azariah was very helpful to me, so please thank him in my name!”

  “I’ll thank him in my own name too! Azariah is a loyal friend and a devoted companion.”

  “We heard the rumour that you asked the King to appoint him a minister, and your other friends too, Mishael and Hananiah. In my humble opinion you did the best thing possible, and I have no doubt it will bear fruit.”

  “We work together, and by the grace and the mercy of God, we’re trying to bring some relief to the peoples that Babylon has subjugated.”

  “That’s what the prophet Jeremiah was saying – that your mission is a divine one and you could achieve a great deal – so he said, and you would also be tested by temptation, but God would always be with you to save you from death. Those were his explicit words and he went on to say you should be strong and take courage, as your words and your deeds will be the property of all generations of mankind yet to come, and there will be many who love you and more who hate you, and those who hate you are those who hate God and defy Him, and those who love you – are lovers of God who do His will.”

  “If only God will give the strength to cope with all of them!” he said, adding: “It is written in the Scriptures, I am not jealous, meaning that he who has earned the privilege of loving Him, the Blessed One, yearns for nothing else other than Him. All that he seeks, he seeks through Him, and all that he does, he does for the greater glory of His name, and all that he loves, he loves through Him and for His sake.”

  “May His name be forever blessed!” she pronounced the benediction in a remarkably even voice and raised to him her open, candid gaze, dismissing hypocrisy and banishing evil thought or malicious intent.

  Again he was swept by that tide of pure delight and exuberance of spirit. He remembered Adoniah and asked her:

  “Not long ago you sent me greetings through Adoniah, one of the exiles, who serves the King as a trader and a go-between.”

  “I remember him well,” she replied. “A young man with all kinds of ideas running around in his head, not the kind of ideas likely to bring him closer to God. I entrusted to him a gift and a message for you.”

  He unbuttoned his shirt and showed her the seven-branched candlestick, hanging about his neck.

  For a moment her eyes glowed wit
h satisfaction, and then she went on to say:

  “He told me certain things, some of which I was interested to hear.”

  “Such as?” he asked.

  “Such as the horse race that both of you, it seems, took part in. At first he said he was crowned the winner, then he changed his story and said he almost won, and finally he admitted it was all lies and the winner was none other than you. Naturally I was pleased to hear this and I was proud as well. And then the man launched into a recital of gossip that I barely paid attention to, until he seemed to lose the thread and cut his speech short, stopping altogether and even apologising. Then he gave me some conflicting versions of his life story, saying how miserable he’d been, with no one to talk to or confide in, and then he declared with a kind of arrogance, to say nothing of pretentiousness, that the work he was doing was on behalf of the King of Babylon, and he was doing it well, and this role of his had opened up all kinds of opportunities for him, and he was seeing the world and gaining experience and most important of all – enjoying himself. Still, I see he did his task faithfully, and gave you what he was asked to give you!”

  “He almost forgot!” he said lightly, with a chuckle.

  “To tell you the truth,” she replied – “I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had forgotten. He looked so preoccupied.”

  “With what?” he asked.

  “With himself!” was the clear and simple answer.

  He took his leave of her, and told her chambermaids to prepare her a hot bath; they assured him it was already done. He watched the porters bringing in her belongings and for the third time that day, for no immediately obvious reason, he felt overwhelmed by glee and exuberance of spirit, and were it possible, at that moment he would have embraced the whole universe and given it all that was in him, and more.

  Azariah he met the next morning, and he confirmed the rumours coming out of Judah, concerning Zedekiah and his rebellious intentions.