“Perhaps he was nervous?”
“Perhaps.”
Marah looked at Caleb, asleep on his father’s shoulder. He was as dear to her as if she really was his mother, yet, how she longed to give Jesse a child. She had been late for the time of women this month and a hope had risen in her heart that she would bear a child for Jesse at last. Her hopes had been dashed again. Though they had been married four years, there was still no child. Her barrenness lay heavy on her heart. When she had timidly spoken of it to Jesse, he had drawn her close and kissed her.
“To have you in my arms, beloved, is enough. Don’t worry. It shall happen in time. I have a son already.” He meant to comfort her, but it was a reminder that his only child was by another wife.
As the months stretched into years, her desolation increased. Had the Lord shut up her womb? Had the child she had borne Zibeon damaged her in some way? Her heart cried out, Oh God Who Sees Me, am I never to bear Jesse a child? Are You punishing me for my pact with Shimei? It was wrong in Your eyes. Surely I shall not bear the shame of that forever. Marah kept her agreement with Shimei to herself. No one must ever know she had conspired to do such a thing. Yet God had seen and heard. Marah felt a weight on her chest. Perhaps this barrenness was her punishment forever. She had gone to Shelomith the midwife to see if there were any herbs that would help, but nothing had worked.
At last Shelomith had shaken her head sadly. “You were badly torn. The babe nearly took your life with him, so great was he. It could be that there is more damage inside that we cannot see. Only God can give life. I can do no more.”
Yet while her husband was strong and lusty, she was sure she would never bear another child. She looked over at Jesse’s handsome face in the moonlight, a lock of hair over one eye. How she loved him. Elon and Abigail, unlike Athaliah, never reproached her for not giving them more grandchildren. They delighted in Caleb and loved Marah like a daughter. It was a peaceful household.
She looked around at her small family. She had much to be thankful for, yet a tear slipped silently down her face. Brushing it away, she moved closer to Jesse as they neared Shechem.
PART V
Haman
24
The horse galloped wildly, its flanks wet with lather, mouth foaming at the bit as it obeyed the relentless urging of its rider.
“Faster, faster, you poor excuse for a beast!”
Haman looked back briefly over his shoulder, seeking a sign of the two men who pursued him. Two small figures appeared in the distance. Far enough. He would make the gates of Shechem.
The men at the caravansary opened the gate as he approached. The sun sank behind Mount Gerizim as he dashed through the gate and brought the heaving animal to a halt. He looked to his rear with a touch of a sneer in his smile. I have reached Shechem, he thought. I am safe.
“Perhaps it is too late to find the house of Elon,” Haman considered as he narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. He needed to rest, he thought, stretching his cramped muscles and yawning. “Tomorrow is soon enough to seek out my long-lost relatives, if they are here.”
No other strangers came into the caravansary before the gates closed, but it would not be wise to go about in an unfamiliar town this night. He stretched again and turned toward the man who was obviously in charge. Perhaps what he needed would come to him. Introducing himself, he made a brief inquiry and went to the cubicle of a room he had been assigned. With disgust he noted the simple bed and table with a small lamp. It was not what he had been used to, yet under the circumstances it would have to do. In due time, there was a knock on the door, and a woman lifted the heavy curtain and entered, her bracelets tinkling in the soft light.
“You sent for me, my lord?” Removing her mantle, she moved toward him with practiced grace.
In the morning, Haman stood in the doorway. He had not given a thought to his horse. A servant had led the animal away. Well, he didn’t need it now anyway. From the looks of things, he would not need it for a long time. Perhaps he would sell the beast. He patted his girdle where he had tucked the bag of coins. It would have to take care of him for some time. Frowning, he considered the events of the previous night. Traveling by himself had been his downfall, that and being foolish enough to investigate someone’s cry for help. He found a drunken merchant lying dead, his murderer poised with the dripping knife still in his hand as he reached for a bag of coins on the ground. When Haman slid off his horse and took in the scene, the thief, thinking him to also be easy prey, lunged at him. Strong and agile, he sidestepped the clumsy thrust of the knife and planted his own between the thief ’s shoulder blades.
“Fool! Did you think to make me your next victim?” He picked up the merchant’s purse that had dropped from the dead man’s hand and turned to look at the merchant.
“Ah Haman, you have an interesting dilemma here. Keep the gold or go to the nearby caravan and find relatives or friends of the merchant.” Perhaps there was some gain here for him. He tucked the gold into his girdle with one hand and was preparing to clean his knife.
Just then riders appeared on their camels, materializing out of the night. He stood beside the dead bodies with the knife in his hand and eyed them warily.
“He has killed your brother and his servant, Zadok. Kill the thief where he stands!”
“Murderer! You shall pay for your crime!”
“I didn’t kill the merchant. His own servant killed him and tried to kill me. He lies beside his master.”
“You lie, murderer, you shall pay!”
From the looks on their faces, this was not a time for discussion. He grabbed the reins of his horse and swung into the saddle; in a moment he was riding for his life.
The two men had stopped to take care of the dead merchant and his servant, but he knew they would pursue him. They believed he killed the brother of one of them. The Avenger of Blood would demand his life in return. His only hope was to reach Shechem. It was his good fortune that it was not only his destination but it was one of the cities of refuge, designated by God in the Book of the Law. Now, the idea of looking up these relatives appeared an even better one. He had ridden hard to make Shechem by nightfall. It was a matter of life or death.
He surveyed the compound for anyone who looked suspicious and questioned one of the camel drivers.
“Has anyone else entered the caravansary this morning?”
“No one,” the man replied, shrugging his shoulders.
Haman strolled toward the gate that led from the caravansary into the city of Shechem. Now, where to find the house of Elon. A family would be extremely convenient now. He congratulated himself on his good luck. Now if he could only convince the elders of the city of his innocence, but it would be his word against the testimony of two men who had seen him with the knife in his hand. May a thousand flies descend upon their camels! Why did they have to appear just when they did? He shook his head and walked quickly toward the street of the carpenters. His head was covered, but his eyes did not miss anyone who looked too closely in his direction.
A man on the street directed him to the carpentry shop of Elon’s son.
“Is this the shop of my cousin Jesse, son of Elon?” Haman asked, observing an ax and hatchet leaning against one wall and an adz for shaping wood on the work bench.
“I am Jesse.” Jesse put down the plane he had been examining for sharpness and walked toward Haman. “Did you say cousin?” He appeared puzzled.
“I am Haman, son of Jemuel, your father’s eldest brother.”
Puzzlement turned to delight. Muscles rippled on the arm that Jesse extended. His large hand clapped Haman on the shoulder.
“Truly I had forgotten my father had an elder brother,” Jesse said with a smile. “He has not spoken of him in many years. You are his son?” The brown eyes appraised Haman, in a friendly but cautious way.
Haman was a sizable man himself, but had nearly buckled under the strength of Jesse’s exuberant hand. He moved away ever so slightly and nodded with a
wry smile. “Your father Elon lives?”
“He lives. He is not strong but he does well. He will be glad to meet you. Come, I will close my shop and take you to him. Please make our humble home yours and share our evening meal.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Jesse secured the doors to the front of his shop and with a grin beckoned Haman to follow as, with great strides, he headed homeward.
Marah watched for Jesse as she always did at the end of the day. She was surprised to see a stranger enter the courtyard with him. Caleb ran to meet his father, and Marah watched from the shadow of the doorway as Jesse introduced his son to the stranger. Caleb, now nine, was already helping his father in the carpenter shop and doing tasks usually left to older boys or apprentices. He was also taller than most boys his age.
Caleb eyed the stranger quietly but hung back when he was introduced.
Haman put a hand on Caleb’s shoulder and smiled. “It is good to meet the son of my cousin.” He turned toward the house and the smile that had not reached his eyes became an ingratiating one as he gazed at Marah. She stepped out to meet them.
“Haman, my wife Marah. Marah, this is my cousin Haman, son of my father’s older brother Jemuel. He has been living in Joppa and has traveled a great distance to pay us a visit.”
While Jesse was making his introduction, Marah was aware of the warm, appraising eyes of Haman. She noted his beard, combed to a point. A gold earring gleamed in one ear. He was nearly as tall as Jesse, but thicker in girth. A handsome man, sure of himself . . . and his welcome.
“Welcome to our home, Haman. I didn’t know my husband had any relatives in Joppa.”
Haman had an easy manner. He stood by the house as if he had always belonged there.
“Peace be unto this house,” he said as he stooped to enter. He looked around with frank admiration at the wooden furnishings that Jesse had made for their home. “Truly it is the blessing of God to have a husband gifted in the working of wood.”
“Peace be unto you,” said Elon, rising slowly to greet them. “Welcome to our home.” Then, turning to Jesse, “And who is this stranger who graces us with his presence?”
Jesse put an affectionate arm around his father’s frail shoulders. “Father, this is no other than Haman, the son of your elder brother Jemuel. He comes to us from Joppa.”
“Jemuel?” The old man’s eyes widened and became moist. “My older brother Jemuel? I had given up hope of ever hearing from him again. Tell me, he is well? What news do you bring us of him and your family?” He peered anxiously at Haman.
Haman shook his head ruefully. “Your brother, my father, died when I was just a boy. He was a merchant of sorts. I confess I can tell you little of the family. My mother . . . also died. I have fended for myself for a long time.”
Elon’s shoulders sagged as he pondered the news for a moment. Then he straightened up with dignity and regarded Haman warmly.
“But Jemuel leaves a son, a nephew I did not know I had. It is good of you to come to us. But tell me, how is it you have not come before?”
Haman shrugged his shoulders good-naturedly. “I only heard recently that my father had a brother who was living in Shechem. I determined that I would look you up when I came this way. As it turns out, I will be, ah, spending some time in Shechem.”
Jesse and Marah had listened intently, and Jesse was delighted that the son of his father’s long-lost brother had come while Elon still lived and could enjoy the reunion. Marah moved quickly to set out a simple meal. She brought the wineskin and poured wine for the three men. She still had a few small raisin cakes in the crock, and she placed them on the table.
“You will stay with us, of course,” Elon was saying. Marah waited for Haman’s answer. She was intrigued with this strange relative who had appeared out of nowhere.
“Yes,” added Jesse, “our home is your home. You must tell us of life in Joppa.”
“Your offer is a gracious one. You must forgive me, for it is difficult to resist.” He glanced at Marah. “I have already taken quarters at the caravansary.”
“The caravansary?”
“Yes. I know of a merchant by the name of Ahmal who follows the trade routes. He lives here in Shechem, when his caravan is not on route. I was told he as well as the owner of the caravansary can use someone of my, ah, skills.”
Jesse nodded. “I have heard of Ahmal, the caravan master. His caravans do a brisk trade here in Shechem.”
Marah listened eagerly as she went about her duties. She was eager to learn about the world of the caravans.
Haman gave them all a dazzling smile, but Marah felt somehow it was for her benefit. “The son of my uncle is indeed a fortunate man to have captured the most beautiful of women for his own.”
Marah felt her cheeks grow warm. She lowered her eyes quickly, for the gaze of Haman was bold as well as disconcerting. She had not missed the thoughtful look on Jesse’s face as he gazed quietly at his cousin.
Caleb, who had been penning up the chickens, came in and sat down, reaching for a raisin cake. They usually just had these on special occasions.
“Did you come in a caravan?” he asked.
“No, I rode alone. I have a horse.”
Caleb’s eyes grew wide. “You own a horse? No one in our neighborhood owns a horse!” He looked admiringly at Haman.
“You travel at risk, to travel so far alone, cousin,” said Jesse, whose face in the last few moments was unreadable.
Haman nodded ruefully. “I ran into bandits in the hills. I was able to outrun them, but I feared I would not make the city before they caught up with me. God in His mercy was with me and I entered the city gates just as they were closing for the night.”
Elon looked startled. “You were indeed fortunate. The soldiers patrol the hills, but the roads are not safe for a lone traveler. Tell me, nephew, why would you not travel in the safety of a caravan?”
Marah thought she saw the briefest hint of annoyance on Haman’s face, but his rich laugh covered the moment.
“True, I have a tendency to become impatient when I have set my mind to do something. I could not wait another month for the caravan to leave for Shechem. I was anxious to meet the relatives I had never seen.” He gestured to include them all, but his gaze lingered for the briefest possible moment on Marah. Then he looked around the room and turned to Elon. “Your wife, my aunt, she is not with you?”
Jesse sighed. “To our sorrow my mother, Abigail, died over two years ago.” He glanced at his father who had bowed his head at the mention of his wife’s name. He still missed her.
Haman put a comforting hand on Elon’s arm. “I am truly sorry to have missed her, Uncle. It is clear that she was dear to you.” He turned back to Jesse. “Now tell me, cousin, how does your carpenter shop go? You do well here?”
Jesse’s face was thoughtful for a moment, but he smiled and leaned forward as they began to discuss his trade. Haman asked seemingly innocuous questions—a relative just gathering news of his family.
Marah listened unobtrusively as she moved about the room, refilling the wine goblets and quietly halting Caleb’s hand as he reached for a third raisin cake. He sighed and with a grin reached for a dried fig. Marah smiled indulgently. It was hard to resist Caleb. He was constantly hungry, always eager to please, and an obedient boy. She loved him dearly.
There was a commotion outside and Caleb jumped up and hurried to the door. “The goat is loose again,” he cried as he dashed outside. Marah and Jesse quickly followed.
Between the two of them, they caught the goat, but not before it had wreaked havoc with the plants in the courtyard.
“Did you tie him securely, Caleb?”
He hung his head. “I was excited when Cousin Haman came. I forgot.”
“He is your responsibility, my son.” Jesse spoke from behind Marah as he surveyed the damage. “Tomorrow you must help your mother repair what you can.”
“Yes, Papa,” Caleb mumbled. He adored his father
and seldom did Jesse have the occasion to rebuke him. He stood silently, ashamed and forlorn.
Marah softened. “It is time for sleep, Caleb. We will work together tomorrow to put things right again.”
At the gentleness of her tone, Caleb brightened. She was not angry with him. He nodded to them all and hurried into the house.
Haman came outside and observed the scene quietly. Marah knew he did not miss the look of love that Jesse gave her as they all returned to the house.
Marah was aware of Haman walking on her other side. He smelled of leather and fragrance. It was not unpleasant.
When Haman had gone, Marah turned to Jesse thoughtfully. “What do you think of your cousin Haman?”
Jesse considered a moment, then spoke quietly. “An interesting man. A bit mysterious, perhaps a tale that is not all told.”
25
Haman was a frequent visitor to their home. He stayed at the caravansary where he now worked. He seldom spoke of what he did there, but they knew he had something to do with the merchants and the caravans that came to Shechem. Somehow he didn’t seem the type to work at that sort of task, but he seemed always in good spirits and did not complain. He brought occasional small gifts for Caleb and spent time talking with Elon and Jesse about Joppa.
“Joppa is called the gateway to Palestine, for it is built on a rocky knoll that projects out into the Great Sea.”
“The Great Sea?” interrupted Caleb, fascinated with the stories of the caravansary and places far away.
“Its other name is the Mediterranean.” Haman seemed inordinately patient with Caleb’s questions. He believed Caleb to be the son of Marah and Jesse and there did not seem to be a need to tell him differently. It was as if she had always been Caleb’s mother.
Journey to the Well: A Novel Page 14
