Journey to the Well: A Novel

by Diana Wallis Taylor

  “You cannot get off so easily!” Athaliah’s eyes narrowed and she put her face next to his. “It is also said in the law that if a man’s brother dies without a son, his widow must not marry outside the family; instead, her husband’s brother must marry her. The first son she bears to him shall be counted as the son of the dead brother, so that his name will not be forgotten. But.. .” and Athaliah poked a bony finger in Shimei’s chest, emphasizing her words, “if the dead man’s brother refuses to do his duty in this matter, refusing to marry the widow, then she shall go to the city elders. She shall say to them, ‘My husband’s brother will not do the part of kinsman redeemer for me. He refuses to marry me.’ The elders shall speak with him and if he still refuses, then”—and Athaliah looked slyly at Marah—“the widow shall walk over to him in the presence of the elders, pull off his sandal from his foot and spit in his face!”

  Athaliah gripped his shoulder like a vise. “You will marry your brother’s widow. My shame shall be wiped away. I will be able to hold my head up in the village again,” she stated firmly. “I will have my grandchild!”

  Shimei awkwardly tried to pat her shoulder. Just as suddenly as it had come, the storm spent itself, and Athaliah looked bewildered. She stood up slowly, looking around her as if seeing the house for the first time. Marah and Shimei both gently urged her to rest. As Shimei led her to her pallet, Athaliah suddenly clutched his hand, putting it to her cheek. Her voice took on a pitiful tone. “You will give me my grandson, Shimei? You will not refuse the law?” She had tears in her eyes as she looked up beseechingly at him. He was overcome with emotion and it was a moment before he could answer her.

  “No, Mother, I shall not refuse the law.”

  Marah knew Shimei had watched his mother slip close to the edge of madness in the last weeks. He seemed anxious to soothe her, yet there was something that seemed to trouble him. Marah stood with mixed emotions also. She had forgotten the Levirate law. Must she marry Shimei, a strange, quiet man given to disappearing at odd moments? She looked at his long, angular face and deep-set eyes. He was obviously not anxious to marry her. If he refused, Athaliah would force her to go to the elders. Marah could not see herself spitting in Shimei’s face. Over the last months Shimei had been kind to her, in his way. He did not appear to have a temper like Zibeon. Reviewing Shimei’s good qualities, she reasoned that to marry him might be difficult, but not impossible. A child for Zibeon? She considered Shimei’s appearance again. The child would not look like Zibeon. Then as she thought of a child, the grief unexpectedly welled up in her. The tears pooled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. She felt weak.

  Athaliah was watching her. “You weep at obeying the law?” she demanded. “My son is not acceptable to you?”

  Marah shook her head sadly. “It is not that, I think of my ... son.”

  Athaliah’s face softened and she patted Marah’s hand absentmindedly. “You grieve, child. You have your time of mourning. Then you shall marry Shimei.” It was so matter of fact, as though it would solve all her problems. Athaliah let them ease her to her pallet and sighed contentedly. She had settled the matter.

  “Yes, of course, you were so wise to remember.” Shimei continued to speak softly in his whispery voice as weariness of body and mind drew Athaliah into its fold. In a few moments she slept.

  Shimei stood looking down at her. He was like a great crane standing hunched over a nest as he stood awkwardly clenching and unclenching his fists.

  At last he turned to Marah and grabbing her arm he pulled her toward the doorway. “I must speak with you.”

  Marah felt alarm at his tight grip. He pulled her outside, away from Athaliah. He looked around warily lest anyone be near who could hear their conversation.

  “You do not want to marry me,” he whispered harshly. It was a statement, not a question.

  “But, Shimei, the law, we are bound by the law. Do you not wish to be my kinsman redeemer?”

  He sighed heavily and looked down at the ground. “Marah, haven’t you wondered why I’ve never married?”

  She shrugged. While she sensed that she knew, she was not sure she was ready to have Shimei tell her the truth. Hannah had told her of rumors in the village. “Perhaps because you have not found the right maiden to marry?” she answered hopefully.

  “You must know it is more than that. I do not do well with women.” He sought for the right words. “I am more, ah, comfortable with those who share my feelings.”

  Marah continued to look at him expectantly.

  He struggled to finish. “They are . . . not . . . women.”

  There it was before them, like a shadow that had sprung from the darkness. Marah felt the shadow spread its cloak around them both and spread heaviness in her chest. What could she say to him? What were they to do? At last she looked up at Shimei. His shoulders drooped with the weight of the secret he had revealed. Stripped of his mask, his face was stark and vulnerable before her. He knew she could go to the elders with what he had told her. It would mean his death. How could she do that?

  Suddenly she felt pity and compassion for Shimei, for his life and all that had brought him to this terrible dilemma. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and touched his arm. “You have been kind to me, Shimei,” she said again. “Would Athaliah have to know that . . . all was not as . . . man and wife between us? I would welcome a time to . . . not be a wife.” She looked earnestly at Shimei, wanting him to understand.

  The import of her words astonished him. “You would be my wife in name only?” Shimei said slowly. “You would not require . . .” He could not meet her eyes.

  “Yes, Shimei, I would do that. Would it not protect you? I in turn would not be required to marry a distant kinsman I do not know.”

  Shimei had tears in his eyes and could not speak. If they were found out—if Athaliah should suspect and go to the elders, it could mean punishment for them both . . . and death. Yet he had promised Athaliah he would marry his brother’s widow. He groped for the words to convey his gratitude. “I am sorry for the death of your . . . son,” he murmured finally.

  Marah nodded slowly. “It is now a year since Zibeon’s death.

  Knowing Athaliah, she will announce our betrothal to the village as soon as possible. She will want the marriage to take place soon. What else can we do?”

  Shimei moved his head up and down slowly. Marah knew it was more than he had hoped for.

  Athaliah cried out in her sleep. Shimei looked back at the house and gripping Marah’s arm briefly, he slipped out the gate, disappearing into the night.

  Marah stood in the middle of the courtyard. She felt as though the whole scene that had just occurred here was not real. For a moment she wished she were a child again. She longed to run to the comfort of Hannah’s arms. She couldn’t tell anyone, especially Hannah. She was not a child anymore. She had shared the bed of a husband and borne a son. She must put away childish fantasies.

  As Marah returned to the house, a hymn came to her mind that her father had taught her.

  There is nothing like Him or as He is,

  There is neither likeness or body.

  None know who He is but He Himself,

  None is His creator nor His fellow.

  He fills the whole world

  Yet there is no chancing on Him.

  He appears from every side and quarter,

  But no place contains Him.

  Hidden yet withal manifest, He sees

  And knows everything hidden.

  Hidden nor appearing to sight,

  Nothing is before Him and after Him nothing.

  She thought of the words “He knows everything hidden,” and felt a shudder go through her body. He is the “God Who Sees Me.” He knew what they planned. Would He weigh it against what she had been through? What terrible penalty would she and Shimei pay for their bargain?

  12

  The next day brought unexpected callers. As Marah went about her morning tasks, she looked up to see three me
n enter the courtyard. It was the shammash and two of the village elders. The shammash ministered in the temple along with his brother, the high priest, and was an imposing figure. He had a straight, high forehead, full brow, and large, almond-shaped eyes. His aquiline nose and sharp chin along with his height and lofty bearing gave him a regal appearance. His countenance was stern as Marah bowed her head in respect and welcomed him to their humble home.

  Marah’s mind raced. Why had they come? Something was wrong. Had the night wind whispered its secrets already?

  The shammash addressed himself to Athaliah who was sitting in the sun with some sewing in her lap. “We have come to speak with your son.”

  Athaliah looked at him curiously. “My son is dead, but he will return. He will return soon,” she crooned.

  The shammash looked startled and turned to Marah who spoke up quickly in Athaliah’s defense. “My lord, she took the death of my husband quite hard. He was her older son. Forgive her, my lord, she has not been herself.”

  The two elders whispered among themselves and Marah heard the word “demented.”

  The shammash waved an impatient hand, silencing them. “It is the second son we have come to see. Certain knowledge has come to me and we wish to question him.” He glanced around the courtyard as though Shimei were hiding in the shadows.

  “Truly, my lord, he is not here. He has gone to the next village on business. We are to marry when he returns.” She looked up at the shammash, trying to hide her fear.

  “You are young. Perhaps there are things you are not aware of. All is not always as it seems. Before a marriage is to take place, we must speak with this one.” His face was a thundercloud. Marah felt he could hear her heart pounding within her.

  “You have not consummated this union?” It was more a statement than a question. For a long moment his eyes bored into hers. She shook her head and looked quickly down at the ground again.

  Apparently satisfied that she was telling the truth, the shammash moved toward the gate and beckoned the others to follow. He strode a few steps and then turned back to Marah. “He is to come to the temple, the Bit Allah, the House of God, when he returns. We will decide on this matter then.”

  Marah watched them go, her heart still pounding. They knew. She was not the only one to share Shimei’s secret after all. The rumors in the village had reached the ears of the council of elders and the high priest. What was she to do? She did not know how to reach Shimei or when he would return. She prayed that he would return under cover of darkness. She would watch for him and warn him of the danger.

  Three more days passed before Shimei’s return. Marah had watched diligently each day and listened for him each night before she fell asleep. Her thoughts were troubled. In the Book of the Law, given to them by Moses, the agreement she had made with Shimei was against God’s commandments. She knew she had done wrong, and the guilt lay heavy on her spirit. It had seemed the only thing she could do. Marah made sure that Athaliah was sleeping and quietly crept up to the roof where she could ponder the situation.

  She could not knowingly hurt Shimei. Then again she did not want to marry a strange relative of Zibeon’s, should there be one who was able to perform the duties of kinsman redeemer for her. Shimei would have had to publicly renounce his place as kinsman. She thought of pulling off his sandal and spitting in Shimei’s face. She could not do that. Then there would be the question of why. Did the whole village know about Shimei? Did they only want to put the rumors to rest? Her head swam with anxious thoughts until finally she sat down on the matting and wrapped her arms around her knees in the cool air. Then, putting her head down on her arms, her heart cried out to the God of the universe.

  Lost in her own agony, she was startled by a village dog barking. She stood up and peered over the parapet to see a shadowy figure entering the courtyard. At first she was afraid, concerned it was a robber or worse, but as the figure stood in the moonlight, she recognized him. It was Shimei!

  With a stifled cry of relief, she hurried down the steps to the courtyard. Shimei seemed surprised to see her at that hour of the night. Marah looked around quickly.

  “Come inside the house. There is news I must tell you. I have been watching for your return.” When he hesitated, she took his arm and urged him to come quickly.

  To their relief, Athaliah was sleeping soundly. They moved quietly so as not to disturb the animals below them and wake her. Marah lit a small oil lamp.

  “Shimei, the shammash was here. The elders wish to speak with you when you return. I am to tell you to come to the Bit Allah for questioning by the elders and the high priest.”

  Shimei did not seem to be startled or surprised. He sighed. “Word came to me from a friend concerning this. I have known for two days, but there were things I had to do. I thank you for what you tried to do, but it would not have worked. It is too late for that now. I must leave Shechem tonight and I cannot return.”

  He knew? “But then why . . . ?” Marah whispered.

  “Why did I return?” Shimei pulled a rolled parchment from his cloak. “We are betrothed, Marah, under the Levirate law you are as my wife, and the only way you can be free of me is . . . a bill of divorcement.” Seeing the shock on her face, he tucked the parchment on a ledge and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “You are divorcing me?” Marah stared at him, bewildered.

  “It is best. The truth is known and I am in danger of stoning. You should be free to have a better life, Marah, to marry a man who can give you children . . . who can make you happy. I cannot be such a man, in spite of my mother’s wishes. You will also be free of the Levirate law to marry a kinsman. It was the only way.”

  He had thought of everything. Marah nodded dumbly, her mind reeling with the shock and anguish over the terrible import of his words.

  Shimei glanced over at Athaliah who was now snoring softly. His face softened for a moment. He turned back to Marah. Taking out a small pouch, he placed it in her hands. It was heavy with coins. “Listen carefully, Marah, I haven’t much time. Even the shadows have eyes in the night. There are things you must know.” He spoke in an urgent whisper. “Will you take care of my mother?”

  Marah nodded. She was fond of the old woman and knew she couldn’t leave her alone in her present state of mind. Then she also feared Athaliah’s reaction when she found out what Shimei had done. Yet if she was divorced . . . ?

  Shimei continued, “This is a portion of the money from the sale of the sandal shop to a man in the next village.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I have no wish to make sandals.”

  Marah smiled ruefully at this.

  “The man who bought the shop is coming with his family as soon as he is able. The house is Athaliah’s with the bill of divorcement, but you do not have to show that to the elders yet.” He had known what she was thinking. “When the time comes, go to your friend. She will know what to do. I have spoken to her.”

  Marah marveled at Shimei’s resourcefulness. He had spoken to Hannah.

  Shimei continued in an urgent whisper, “I have sent for a kinswoman, who will take care of my mother. I do not know how long it will take for her to come. As you are no longer my betrothed, you cannot remain after she comes. It is better this way. You understand what I have done?”

  Marah nodded again. “I understand, Shimei. I . . . am sorry it turned out this way.” She felt like she had lived a lifetime in the last few months.

  She looked at the strange man before her, at the sharp nose and sallow face. He had aged also in the last few months. His long arms hung down at his sides.

  Shimei turned and watched Athaliah quietly. “She will not be sorry I have gone,” he murmured almost to himself. “I wonder if there was a time she ever really knew I was here.”

  “Let me get you something for your journey,” Marah whispered, as he turned to go.

  She sought to do something for him, before he was gone from them forever. She quickly and quietly gathered up some cheese and what was left of the
day’s bread. She gathered some dates and a pomegranate. Wrapping them in a cloth, she gave them to him.

  “May God be merciful to you, Shimei,” she said softly.

  “And you, Marah.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly, and slipped out into the night.

  Marah stood still for a long moment after he had gone. She was still reeling from the import of what Shimei had done. Perhaps it was best, considering the circumstances. She looked up at the small scroll of parchment on the ledge—a bill of divorcement. She dreaded facing the women of the village. Then there was Athaliah. What would happen when she broke the news to her mother-in-law? Slowly she reached for the scroll and unrolled it, looking at the strange marks that had been written. She did not understand them. She must take Shimei’s word for what it said. Then she rolled up the scroll and placed it back up on the ledge, time enough to deal with that in the morning. She put the small bag of coins under her pallet and turned to lie down. With a start she looked at her mother-in-law. Athaliah’s eyes were open and staring at her. A shudder passed through Marah as though the face of a stranger confronted her.

  “Has Zibeon returned?” Athaliah quavered.

  13

  Marah awoke early and felt as though she hardly slept at all. She had comforted Athaliah and told her that Zibeon would return. When at last her mother-in-law began to snore softly again, Marah sank to her pallet in exhausted sleep filled with strange dreams. She was running across the desert, stumbling in the deep sand, pursued by dark clouds like faceless hunters in great, swirling black robes who mocked her as she ran. Her feet were like lead as she struggled on, weeping. Then the swirling black clouds disappeared and the sky cleared. She stood alone, waiting for something. Suddenly the stranger from her previous dreams appeared before her. There were no words, yet she felt no more fear, only peace. At that moment she awoke.