Isaiah's Daughter

by Mesu Andrews

  Isaiah didn’t appear to be taken in. “Aya and I will not attend a celebration to place an abomination in Yahweh’s Temple.”

  Hezi silently rejoiced, but Ima maintained her tears. “Please, Isaiah. Even Abba Zechariah, as retiring high priest, has agreed to stand with me. We all know placing this altar in the Temple was wrong, but Abba feels as helpless as I do. Shouldn’t we stand together in the struggle?”

  Isaiah invited Ishma to her feet and gathered her under his arm. “I will not struggle with you, Queen Abijah. I will stand firm and rest in Yahweh’s right hand. For He has said, ‘Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you.’ ” He turned to Hezi. “We’ll honor your ima’s condition and not have class today. However, I’ll see you in class tomorrow, young prince, anxious to hear more of your observations on balancing royal responsibility between your kingdom and family.”

  Hezi watched his teacher and friend walk down the long carpet toward the door and slip quietly from the chamber. Ima wiped her tears when the door clicked shut behind them. Taking up her embroidery, she resumed her place on the couch.

  Silence. It was a weapon more painful than tears.

  “I’m sorry Isaiah refused to attend the dedication, but I’m not sorry Ishma will remain my classmate. You must see that her perspective is essential, and she is willing, after all, to submit to my decisions.”

  “I see that Isaiah and that girl will cause trouble. I must find some way—”

  “No!” Hezi shouted.

  “Have you forgotten to whom you are speaking?”

  He sat beside her and spoke gently. “I love you, Ima. I do. But you will leave this alone. As you keep reminding me, I am Judah’s crown prince and have won Abba’s favor. Ishma will remain with me in Isaiah’s classroom. Do you understand?” He didn’t look away until she nodded. “Enjoy your friendship with Mistress Aya, and let me enjoy mine with Ishma.”

  He didn’t see full surrender in her eyes, but what he saw was enough that he could return to his peg game while he awaited the afternoon’s ceremony.

  15

  Turn to me and be gracious to me,

  for I am lonely and afflicted.

  —Psalm 25:16

  I walked four steps ahead of Master Isaiah, hoping—no, praying—my turtle doves would be nested in our courtyard niches when we reached home. They’d migrated for the winter, and Mistress assured me they’d return as they had for the past five years. But on this, Hezi’s first day of military training and my first day in class without him, I needed to see my birds. The cold wind whipped my robe as the sun set on the first day of spring.

  In my mind’s eye, I saw Hezi laughing. He would think it ridiculous that two days without seeing him would send me into such a frenzy. Yesterday had been our Sabbath. Master and Mistress always observed Sabbath even though most of Jerusalem had forgotten Yahweh’s commands. After two whole days without my best friend and months without my doves, I thought my chest might explode from the aching.

  We reached our courtyard, and I flung open the gate. Rushing toward the dovecote on the eastern wall, I saw the niches and slowed halfway across the packed dirt.

  Empty. The dovecote and my heart. Fighting back tears, I let my shoulder bag drop to the ground, and I dropped with it.

  Master Isaiah crouched behind me and kissed the top of my head. “They’ll return soon, my girl, and each day in class will get easier. We must be patient.” His footsteps faded into the house.

  Soon, I heard another set of sandals approach. The scent of cloves announced the mistress’s presence. “It’s only the first day of Aviv, Ishma. Your turtle doves can’t read a calendar.” She pulled my woolen cloak closer around my neck. “It’s been a harsh winter. Perhaps the palm doves and turtle doves will come later this year. I didn’t see a single rock dove in the city this winter. Did you?”

  I knew she was trying to distract me. She knew more from Solomon’s writings on birds than I did. I shook my head. “No, I didn’t see any rock doves either.” They sheltered among the rocks and cliffs year round but flew over Jerusalem’s hills on nice days. “Why can’t my little palms and turtles stay with me all year?”

  Mistress tucked her robe beneath her legs on the cold ground and knelt beside me. “Is it the doves alone that caused your tears?” She offered me a cloth to dry my eyes.

  I received it, needing it more now because she asked the question, and the answer tore at my heart. “When will I see Hezi now that he no longer attends class?” I fell into her arms, the full weight of my fear escaping in sobs.

  Mistress held me until grief ebbed. Then she ventured a question that gathered my heart’s broken pieces into a manageable pile. “Have you asked Yahweh to help?”

  Startled by the question’s simplicity, I was also intrigued by its possibilities. “No, Mistress, I haven’t. Do you really believe Yahweh would care about a girl’s lonely heart?”

  She looked at me with glistening eyes. “Do you know why Master Isaiah calls me a prophetess?” I shook my head but was eager to hear. “It’s not because I proclaimed Yahweh’s words to kings or predicted future events that came to pass. Isaiah calls me prophetess because I speak with Yahweh as a friend—and He answers.”

  My mind began to spin with questions, but the most important came out first. “How do you hear Yahweh’s voice?”

  “How do you call a palm dove to light on your arm?”

  Obedient but confused, I answered her question. “I become peaceful and then sing the dove’s song.” How could my call to the dove answer my interest in how Mistress heard Yahweh?

  Her eyes sparkled as she helped me work it out. “If I became peaceful and tried to make dove noises, would your dove light on my arm?”

  “Perhaps not.” I thought more about what made my dove come to me. “It’s the trust and familiarity between me and my dove that creates the bond. Only after the second year would the dove light on a platform and take food from my hand. It was the third summer before it actually landed on my arm.”

  Mistress nodded. “Talk with Yahweh, Ishma. A bond will form, and He’ll become familiar, Someone you can trust. You’ll come to know His voice, and by that time He will likely have worked out how you can see Prince Hezekiah.”

  I found myself smiling on one of the hardest days I’d experienced since coming to Master Isaiah’s household. My tears dried; my heart felt lighter. A memory came rushing in—Yaira and I standing at the gates of Samaria—set free. I’d envied a beautiful bird with its peaceful nest, despairing that I’d never feel peace or safety again in my life. “Thank you, Mistress.” I’d found my nest.

  She smiled, and I wrapped my arms around her neck. “I love you.”

  “And I love you, my little dove.” She released me and wiped her own leaky eyes. “Come now. Our evening meal is ready, and the whole family is probably waiting at the table.”

  We brushed the dust from our robes and hurried into the kitchen. The cook fire warmed the air and made a comfortable place to gather. Dinah and Leah had just placed the last serving dishes on the table when we arrived. Mistress took her customary place at Master’s right hand with little Maher next to her and me at the end. Jashub sat on his abba’s left with Kadmiel beside him. Dinah and Leah completed the family on that side of the rectangular wood table. Master Isaiah always led in a prayer of thanks before a single crumb passed our lips.

  “For this food we are grateful and for Your many blessings: shelter, health, family, friends, and more than all these, Your ever-abiding presence. May our lives reflect the truths You’ve spoken. Let it be so today and always.”

  The end of Master’s prayer signaled permission to begin the meal. Jashub and Kadmiel were like chariot horses dashing from the start line. Jashub grabbed the plate of sliced oranges, dried fruit, and nuts, while Kadmiel began ladling his bowl full of lentil stew.

  “How was the first day of class without Hezekiah?” Kadmiel threw out the question and the
n licked a drip of rich brown stew from the side of his bowl.

  I shoved the cheese curds and nuts around my plate with a piece of bread and hoped Master Isaiah would answer for us. He told of the new children in class—all the noblemen’s sons now, not just the advisors’ heirs—and then about my new duties to teach the young ones David’s psalms. The family congratulated me, but my heart and mind were fixed on Hezi.

  How could life change so completely in two days? Hezi and I had spent so much time together—sometimes playing games under the watchful eye of his ima; other times in class as Master Isaiah plotted new topics for us to debate. When the queen allowed it, we walked in the palace’s olive grove under the watchful eye of Samuel, Hezi’s guard. Eliakim joined us occasionally, but I never let him bring his sword or bow. He and Hezi had other friends for that kind of thing. I didn’t need other friends.

  “We missed Hezi greatly, didn’t we, Ishma?” Master Isaiah raised his voice, forcing me back to the family discussion.

  “Yes,” I said. “I missed him very much.” I glanced at Mistress Aya, who offered a consoling smile.

  Master Isaiah peeled an orange while he spoke. “I hadn’t realized how much we’d come to rely on Hezekiah’s experiences in Damascus and Samaria to enhance our lessons this past year.”

  I let the master’s words play in the corners of my thoughts while I pondered what I missed most about Hezi today. What made his absence so difficult? Yes, Shebna was obnoxious, sounding like a know-it-all because Hezi wasn’t there to stifle his overbearing comments. But it was more than that. Without Hezi, the class felt…it felt like straight lines rather than intersecting circles. Hezi had the ability to study other students as they spoke and perceive more than their words. Which meant more interesting discussions and deeper truths that drew students together no matter what their abba’s occupation.

  Kadmiel’s comment broke through my thoughts. “Prince Hezekiah made quite an impression today during his sword drills as well.”

  Master Isaiah halted a spoonful of lentil stew before putting it in his mouth. “Good impression or bad?”

  “Good impression. Evidently, King Ahaz had been working with the prince for a while on weapon skills. Hezekiah trained in the regiment next to mine, and I watched him best the third-year sword champion by midday.”

  I bowed my head to hide quick tears. The thought of Hezi with a sword in his hand had haunted me all day. I’d grown accustomed to Kadmiel being a gifted soldier. Our household was very proud that he’d risen through the ranks and now led his own division, but Master Isaiah always asked him to remove his battle gear before entering the courtyard. Though I routinely spoke to royal guards without reacting, the idea of someone I loved in battle armor sent me into sheer panic.

  The conversation died. It was painfully apparent that all eyes were on me. I refused to look up and expose my fear.

  Jashub rose from his cushion and knelt beside me, taking my hands in his. “Ishma, come now. It’s better to hear Hezekiah did well than that he did poorly.”

  I nodded but didn’t lift my head. Dear, logical Jashub was trying to help. His special gift for sorting out an order or system or plan had earned him the role of assistant chief scribe. Now, his long hours distracted him from pressing Yaira further about marriage. Perhaps he knew better than anyone about a broken heart.

  Keeping my head bowed, I wiped my eyes, my nose. “If you’ll all excuse me,” I said, “I’m extra tired tonight. May I go to my room now?”

  “Of course.” Master Isaiah rose from the table. “It’s a shame you’re tired. I had hoped you would accompany me to the study to help with my first private tutoring session.”

  I looked up, finding all eyes still on me. “Who is your student?” My heart leapt with hope at his smile.

  “Perhaps you’d like to wash your face before Hezekiah arrives. I’m sure he missed you today too.”

  I bumped the table when I jumped to my feet. The laughter escorting me to my chamber said no one minded that I jostled their goblets of watered wine. Hurrying to my wash basin, I splashed my face with cool water, then searched blindly for the cloth I’d set out on the small table nearby. Someone pressed the cloth into my hand. I opened my eyes and found Dinah sorting through our robes hanging in a neat row on wall pegs.

  I patted my face dry. “What are you doing?”

  She lifted my finest robe from its peg and held it against my shoulders, measuring its length and width. “We haven’t worn our fine robes since the king returned. Tonight may be your last chance to wear this before you grow out of it.”

  I looked down at the light blue linen, accented with bead work and fitted at the waist. “Why would I wear this to study with Hezi?”

  Dinah’s arms fell to her sides, and she rolled her eyes. “One day, you’ll want to impress Prince Hezekiah. It’s probably too small for you anyway.” She rehung the robe on its peg and grabbed the ivory comb. “At least let me comb your hair and give you a fresh braid.”

  I lifted the polished bronze mirror to watch Dinah behind me—our daily routine. She combed in silence for several heartbeats, her features lined and serious. “Haven’t you ever wondered who Prince Hezekiah will marry?”

  The cool evening breeze sent a chill through me—or was it the thought of Hezi marrying? “I guess I haven’t thought about it yet. Master Isaiah said Jashub was too young to marry at sixteen. Hezi is only thirteen.”

  “Yes, but Hezekiah is the crown prince. Royalty marries early to build the royal line of succession.”

  She started combing again, and I no longer felt the tangles. Hezi would have told me if his parents had talked of betrothal—wouldn’t he? I scrubbed my face with the damp cloth, hoping to refocus my attention. “Dinah, why haven’t you and Leah married?”

  I watched in the mirror as her expression grew thoughtful. “Leah and I came to Master Isaiah’s house almost twenty years ago when our abba died. He was a sandal maker in the southern city and was killed by bandits on his way home from Jericho. We had no other family to care for us, and Master and Mistress found us living on the streets, eating from garbage piles.”

  I put the mirror down and turned around, hugging Dinah’s waist. “I’m sorry, Dinah. I didn’t know.”

  She squeezed me and then held my cheeks between her hands. “Yahweh turns our mourning into dancing, Ishma.” She kissed my forehead. “Now turn around so I can finish braiding your hair.” I obeyed, and Dinah continued. “Leah and I both decided we’d rather serve Yahweh in Master Isaiah’s household than serve a husband we didn’t love for the rest of our lives.” She paused, her brows pulled together as if thinking hard. “It was the best decision for us, though it’s not right for everyone.”

  “Do you think Yaira will ever marry?” I wondered if Dinah had ever told Yaira her story, if maybe that was why Yaira had refused Jashub.

  “I don’t know, Ishma, but I understand why she chose a servant’s life.” She finished my braid with the purple ribbon and laid the braid over my shoulder. “In the few months that Yaira lived here, serving others seemed as woven into her character as the strands of hair in your braid.”

  She sat on a cushion across from me. “What about you, little Ishma? You will soon become a woman, faced with the decision to marry. Best ask Yahweh now to reveal His path for your future.”

  The thought of my future was nearly as terrifying as my past. Why must things keep changing?

  Mistress Aya appeared at the doorway with a sly grin. “Are you two waiting for Ishma’s hair to grow before she joins Isaiah in the study?”

  “We’ve just finished,” Dinah said, winking at me. “We were talking about the future.”

  Aya held out her hand to me. “Dreams are the fabric of a young girl’s heart.”

  I walked with her down the hallway wondering if Yaira had any dreams. “When Yaira comes of age, who will pay her dowry?”

  Mistress looked down, an amused grin on her face. “Didn’t Yaira say she would never marry?” />
  “Yes, but she might change her mind.”

  “True.” We walked a little farther before the mistress added, “Isaiah and I will pay Yaira’s dowry whenever—and whomever—she decides to marry.”

  I wondered how that might work if Yaira someday agreed to marry Jashub, but we’d already arrived at the study. I hugged the mistress tight. “Thank you for loving us.”

  She hugged me back. “Thank you for being lovable.”

  I hurried into Master Isaiah’s study and assumed my position on the red cushion, my favorite. He had laid out a scroll for me to read while we waited for Hezi. Master said Hezi would be here any moment. I began reading. And kept reading. I’d read nearly halfway through the scroll and still no prince. “Where is Hezi, Master Isaiah?”

  The sun had disappeared over the western hills, and Master Isaiah paced like a prowling cat. He called out his window that overlooked the courtyard, “Any sign of a royal messenger?”

  Mistress Aya was working late to dye some wool thread. “Be patient, my love.”

  Master Isaiah started pacing again, but I stood on a stool to look out the window. “Shouldn’t he have been here by now?” I asked, resuming my place on the cushion.

  “He’ll come, Ishma, or he’ll send a messenger with word.” Master’s tone wasn’t very convincing.

  The squeak of our courtyard gate sent us both running, Master Isaiah ahead of me.

  “There you are!” Master Isaiah said, arriving in the courtyard first. “I was worried. My, my—you even came with an escort. Didn’t Queen Abijah trust us to chaperone?”

  I skidded to a stop as the moonlight shrouded two soldiers in our courtyard. One was taller than Master Isaiah, his shoulders as wide as the gate. The other soldier…

  Hezi? Not my Hezi. This boy wore a leather breast piece, like my Israelite captors, and leather sandals that laced up to his knees. His right hand rested on his sword, and a spear was slung across his back. He stepped toward me.