THE CHOSEN : The Youth: Historical Fiction (The Chosen Trilogy Book 1)

by Shlomo Kalo

  Against these two were ranged his three longstanding friends, Mishael, Azariah and Hananiah, and they utterly refuted the charges of Adoniah, declaring repeatedly that it was not in the power of sorcery or paganism or idolatry to perform the miracles that had been performed, since only God could do this, and Adoniah and Matthew should take care to avoid heresy and idolatry and profanation of the holy, and spurning the God who dwells in their hearts. If anyone needs to repent, it is they who should be working towards their salvation, bowing the knee and asking their Father in Heaven to forgive them for the slander they have spoken against His envoy, none other than Daniel Ben Naimel Ben Judah, the purity of whose heart fills his face with precious light, and only one whose eyes are blinded by jealousy and whose heart is consumed by sanctimony, could utter such calumnies and condemn the innocent, and did not God command Moses: And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your might, meaning that God is love and therefore only he who loves can draw near to Him and cleave to Him, and long for Him and believe absolutely and when the time comes – join with Him for ever and be Him for all eternity.

  And Gershon sided with the threesome, quoting in their support a plethora of verses drawn from the anthems of King David which he, Gershon, the calligrapher of scrolls, knew by heart on account of his profession, having copied them innumerable times. As opposed to Gershon and his three friends, Uziel and Gabriel kept their own counsel and expressed no opinion either way.

  When the speeches were done, all eyes were turned to him, including the eyes of Gabriel and Uziel.

  “Sleep well!” he said with a bright smile, lay down on his bed, wrapped himself in his goatskin, closed his eyes and slept. And as he slept there was a smile on his face, a smile radiating soft and conciliatory light, and not one of the youths who saw him sleeping could help but feel the exaltation of spirit and exuberance of heart that his presence inspired.

  The morning light broke and the convoy mounted the king’s highway, descending slowly from the shoulders of the mountains towards their roots. All proceeded cautiously, man and beast alike, calculating each step as if groping in the darkness. Chasms yawned at their feet, sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left.

  Naaran

  In the early hours of the afternoon the heat grew intense and the signal was given to bring the convoy to a halt. Orders were distributed and the people were instructed to take a short rest, resting the animals as well, and to eat a meal, and attend to their ablutions, sort out their clothing and clean their shoes, then return to their formations and continue the journey down the slope, which appeared to be a smooth and steady incline. But not everything proceeded as smoothly as had been expected. The convoy was delayed for a reason no one could have foreseen.

  The young men had just finished their meal, washed down with cold mountain water, sweet to the taste, when a troop of Chaldean cavalry came speeding towards them, and without a word spoken, took up positions around the wagon beside which they were sitting. The soldiers were well drilled and equipped for combat, facing outwards with their backs towards the youths, bows in their left hands and arrows in their right, ready to unleash a rapid volley. The Chaldeans said nothing to the youths, who for better or worse were hemmed in from all sides, and gave no answers to the questions of Gershon and Hananiah and Adoniah, not revealing the reasons for this sudden deployment, or what peril they were poised to forestall.

  Immediately following the encirclement of the wagon, there was uproar in the camp, as crowds of people, uttering high-pitched shrieks and yells, interspersed with sounds of weeping and lamentation, began moving towards the young men. They stood their ground, tense and anxious as they watched the impassioned hordes closing in on them from all sides with sticks and stones.

  “Something unpleasant has happened in the camp,” Gabriel muttered, with a sidelong glance at him.

  “This is what comes of trying to give the grace of God to pagans and share it with heathens!” exclaimed Adoniah, his voice crackling between his teeth, and all of him hostility and hatred.

  In the crowd there were exiles and Chaldeans alike, and they surrounded the wagon in a wide circle and did not dare come any closer, as the Chaldean soldiers had their bows at the ready and their commanding officer had announced, in a low but perfectly audible voice, in a manner leaving no room for misunderstanding, that anyone attempting to reach the wagon would be shot, and this by the explicit order of the convoy commander. There was nothing in the Chaldean officer’s words to suggest anything other than absolute seriousness; he meant what he said and was prepared, if necessary, to put it into effect with speed and efficiency. And so the crowd stood still, encompassing the wagon which, it now emerged, had been isolated from the rest of the convoy.

  But passions were unabated, and the yelling continued with redoubled intensity, echoing in the pure air. Amid all the clamour there was one cry that rang out with perfect clarity: “Death to the young sorcerer!” – and this was taken up and repeated in chorus, as the protesters shook fists and brandished clubs and even swords.

  “Bring out the son of Satan and we’ll deal with him, and there’ll be an end to the evil in the camp!” was the cry of the exiles, who constituted the majority of the throng, and it was then that Or-Nego arrived on the scene in haste, at the head of two troops of cavalry, and set about dispersing the crowd without any further delay, threatening to charge directly at the dense ranks of the rioters.

  Taken aback, the crowd began to withdraw, intimidated by the horses and recoiling from their persistent onslaught. Within a short space of time order was restored and the way ahead was clear, but still angry voices were piercing the air, and although distant and indistinct, the menace in them was still real and tangible.

  Accompanying the convoy commander was the surgeon, and he paused to speak to the passengers in the covered wagon, explaining to Gershon and the boys that Naaran, the officer who had abused Daniel and his God, and in his fury, struck with his fist on the table with such force that the bone in his arm was split, and despite his excruciating pain refused to accept help – this officer, the surgeon told them, had hanged himself on one of the old oak trees at the side of the road.

  Naaran’s dreadful end aroused the soldiers of his platoon to action, and in their fury they resolved to avenge him, with the death of the lout who had impugned the honour of their officer, the valiant Naaran. But their intention became known to Or-Nego, who had his informers in all the units escorting the convoy under his command, and he lost no time in disbanding Naaran’s platoon and sending troops that he could trust to stand guard over the young men, before it was too late. Among the exiles too there were many who resented the youth, including some who were dissatisfied with the treatment they had received from him and who denounced him as a braggart and a fraud, a liar with saintly pretensions. Chaldeans and exiles alike, all were agreed that he could be nothing other than a disciple of the devil, and as for the miracles that he had performed – the hand of Satan was in them.

  And then that soldier whom God had cured by the hand of the boy, and showered with His mercy, stepped forward and contradicted the angry Chaldeans, and they beat him soundly, and it was with great difficulty that he extricated himself from the hands of his assailants, whose hearts were blinded by rage. And he wept and sobbed like a big baby, in his own words, for shame at the contempt that his comrades in arms were showing towards the God who works miracles and whose name is love, and their abuse of the illustrious prince of peace, the Jewish lad who had spoken with him in the tent, and cured him by the grace of his God.

  Or-Nego suppressed the disorder, but not with a heavy hand as was his wont, since he understood the strength of feeling among his troops aroused by the Naaran episode. Naaran had been a valiant soldier and a popular officer, although not renowned for his intellect or his percipience.

  Order was restored, in appearance at least. Chaldean soldiers continued to surround the young men and their wagon, and esco
rted them on the move. Their faces were blank and grim, their lips taut, and instead of bows and arrows, they held drawn swords.

  Inside the wagon, the bitter altercation flared up again. Adoniah claimed with vehemence that it was a sacred duty to lend an attentive ear to the angry accusations of the mob, seeing that “the voice of the masses is the voice of Shaddai”, giving them due and serious consideration, not forgetting the specific charge, heard over and over again, that these so-called miracles had been performed not by the hand of God but by the hand of the Destroyer, whose name is best not spoken aloud, and he is the one responsible for whatever has happened. And everything that Adoniah said was confirmed by Matthew, nodding his head vigorously and echoing his words.

  Against Adoniah and Matthew, Mishael and Azariah and Gershon and Hananiah stood up in robust defence of their friend, adducing all kinds of signs and wonders in support of their argument that it is not in the nature of the Destroyer to perform miracles, since he has no interest in the welfare and the happiness of mankind – least of all in his sincere repentance and devotion to his Creator, his Name be blessed, and he who thinks otherwise is surely to be numbered among the disciples of the Destroyer, his soul in jeopardy and a bitter lot in store for him in the next world! And so the polemic raged on, with Gabriel and Uziel making their contributions too – sometimes on the side of Matthew and Adoniah, and sometimes supporting the firmly held opinions of the opposing camp – or saying nothing, as if the subject was of no interest to them at all.

  Finally, Daniel spoke up for himself, saying that time would tell who was in the right, and there was no purpose to be served by arguing over issues of such depth and complexity. Furthermore, he went on to say, if decisive evidence of the mercy of God, the compassion and love of the Holy One Blessed be He, such as the spectacular recovery of the sick and the crippled, was not enough to convince – then what could mere words accomplish?

  As the convoy passed by a wood, someone drew their attention to a stout oak-tree at the roadside. Still suspended from one of the lower branches was a length of rope, cut with a sword, the rope with which Naaran had hanged himself, and the mood turned ugly again.

  In the long, shaded wagon, silence reigned. Outside, beside the wagon, Gershon was walking at a vigorous pace. It seemed the blazing of the sun did not bother him at all.

  Gershon shielded his head and face with a cotton cloth, and did not heed the urgings of the youths, to climb into the wagon and let one of the younger men walk in his place. Daniel even tried to walk part of the way at his side, hoping that the older man would finally consent to go and sit in the shade, knowing there was a free place in the wagon. But Gershon wasn’t listening, and this time it was the boys who gave in and stayed in their seats.

  When evening came and the convoy halted for the night, there were some among the populace who furtively approached the surgeon and asked him where the young man’s tent was to be set up, and between what times would he be available for consultation. The surgeon replied that by explicit order of Or-Nego, the convoy commander, the tent was not to be set up again, and this on account of the rioting that had taken place, leaving echoes that still reverberated in the air, the rioting in which these importunate ones had doubtless participated. The appellants expressed deep regret over everything that had happened, and went on to ask if it might be possible to approach the young man in the open, or in one of the wagons, whichever was most convenient for him, with the knowledge and consent of Or-Nego, and ask his advice. Again, the response of the surgeon was an emphatic negative.

  It was out of the question. There was to be no contact with the young man, even from a distance. Those were the orders. Strict orders. There was potential danger to the youth, mortal danger, and it was Or-Nego’s duty, by the king’s command and his explicit instructions, to deliver him to the palace whole and healthy, without so much as a scratch on him. And if he failed in this mission then he, Or-Nego, the convoy commander, would be endangering his life. King Nebuchadnezzar was a man who did not know the meaning of compromise, who pretended to no one and demanded that his orders be obeyed to the letter as well as in the spirit. And as all this was known to Or-Nego, so it was known to his personal surgeon, and he thought it only right that it be known to all the travellers in the convoy, exiles and Chaldeans alike – and it should be made clear once and for all that no harm was to befall the young man, not only because Or-Nego was standing behind him and defending him at the risk of his own life, but most of all because the light of God was shining in his young face, and there could be no doubt he was under the personal protection of God, yes, God Himself, and who will dare defy God, contravene His commandments and fight against Him? Could such a man ever succeed in his defiance, cunning though he may be, and aided by all the unruly denizens of the depths of Hell?

  Those who needed the young man’s help were sent away empty-handed. And they returned to the camp, disappointed and ashamed, with no choice but to report to their friends the surgeon’s emphatic rebuttal, and the mood was heavy and despondent.

  “On your own heads you have brought this malignant evil!” had been the surgeon’s final, conclusive statement, and all were forced to admit these were the words of the living God.

  When The Mist Clears

  In the month of Tishri, in the early dawn of the twenty-first day, the convoy climbed the heights of the towering Taurus range, and proceeding along the king’s highway, came to the edge of a promontory, jutting out from the cliff-face.

  The convoy halted, and the people turned to look to their left, at the broad valley beneath them, still buried under the milky-grey cover of a thick morning mist.

  The mist caught the silvery rays of the rising sun and reflected them back into the vault of the sky in a glorious shower of sparks. As time passed, the mist rose gradually, dispersing and melting away, revealing, little by little, what lay hidden beneath it. In silence, the travellers watched as the mist cleared before their eyes, the wisps of it dispersing and melting in the air. And then the eyes of the observers opened wide and their hearts pounded, as the stunning vista was revealed to them.

  Along the full length and breadth of the valley, stretching out at their feet like the bed of an ancient, dried-out sea, soared massive monumental walls, enclosing an area of ground of such vast proportions it was hard to encompass it with the eye. Framed by these towering walls, the roofs of a host of densely packed buildings rose into the void, gleaming in the sun of Tishri, and among them, reaching truly incredible altitudes, the domes of sumptuous palaces, sanctuaries and temples. A little to the right of the centre, the minaret of a tower cleft the fringes of the firmament itself, the tallest by far of all the buildings. The giddy height of the tower caused all who saw it to gape in amazement. It seemed as if the hand of man could never construct an edifice such as this, calling out a challenge to the Heavens.

  All of the most majestic buildings, separated from the rest and taller than them, were surrounded by an inner wall which, judging by the way it refracted the light, could have been overlaid with marble, for the most part if not entirely, and it rose to the same height as the outer wall which so it seemed, must be utterly impregnable.

  The eight youths and Gershon with them, still surrounded by armed guards, stood on the broad outcrop of rock overlooking the valley, and stared, entranced, at the sights revealed before their eyes.

  Gershon sighed and said in a whisper, into which a strange fear had crept:

  “Babylon!”

  And Hananiah pointed to that loftiest of all the buildings, soaring high above all the others and said:

  “The Tower of Babel!” – spoken with the sincere amazement of a child. And Matthew muttered grimly:

  “Neither God nor man could breach those walls!”

  Without looking at the speaker, Daniel declared:

  “The earthquake that struck Bethlehem in the jubilee year buried the town under a layer of rubble a hundred cubits deep. If the Babylonians turn their backs on God, and c
onquer nations with the aim of oppressing their peoples – no relic will remain of this glorious spectacle, not one stone of those walls will be left standing, and this place will be nothing more than a haunt of vultures and buzzards, hyenas and jackals and carrion crows.”

  And suddenly all the enchantment of the scene faded, melting away and vanishing as if it never was. The clear, deep skies revealed to him their secret, the secret of the humility of the one who has attained eternity.

  He remembered Bethlehem, devastated by an earthquake some seven years before. He accompanied his father, who visited the place as envoy of the king. The Chaldeans had not yet laid siege to Jerusalem; they were spoken of as a distant people, not yet encountered face to face. He asked if he might go with his father, and the minister Naimel gave his consent with a slight nod of the head.

  At an early hour of the morning they walked along the road, most of it hewn out of the rock and a lesser part running between fertile fields of corn and barley. At the specific request of his father, the members of the escort did not carry weapons or ride on horseback, and the minister and his young son set the example. There were horses with them, but these were heavy draught-animals, pulling behind them some half dozen wagons laden with emergency supplies of food, blankets and clothing.