Elon was weary from the long walk, and was soon asleep on his pallet. Caleb helped check the animals.
“He is a good man, Mama.”
“Yes, Caleb. He is a good man. Do you like him?”
“Yes, I do. He treats me as if I were grown, not a boy.”
“He is kind to Elon, is he not?” She tried to appear casual in her questions.
Caleb was too full of good food and excitement to look for anything else in her words. He nodded, then yawned and hastily bid her good night.
Marah sat quietly, looking up at the stars from the roof of the house. How many times had she come here to think about things that needed an answer. Oh God Who Sees Me, she prayed, help me to know what to do. She looked up at the star-filled sky, and for once felt no unrest in her spirit.
41
It was nearing the end of the Sabbath and Elon was saying his prayers. Caleb went with him to the Bit Allah and Marah went to the Court of the Women to pray earnestly for the right decision. She looked around and did not see Hannah or Simon. She felt a growing sense of urgency and quietly slipped out. It was becoming more difficult to go to any public place now. The women ostracized her or the men openly approached her. She knew she must speak with Elon tonight . . . and Caleb also. She had made a decision.
Hurrying to the house of Simon, she found Dorcas already there. The older woman nodded in greeting, but to Marah’s relief, there was no malice in her glance.
“We have sent for Shelomith. It is her time,” Dorcas said, indicating Hannah, who lay on her pallet. Beads of perspiration formed on her upper lip and forehead. Marah moved quickly to her side. There was a bowl of water and a cloth already wet, and she placed a cool cloth on Hannah’s forehead. She saw fear in Hannah’s eyes as she tried to handle the pains that came and went.
“I am not . . . a young woman,” Hannah gasped between pains. “I pray our child will be born soon . . . and he . . . will be . . . all right.”
“You shall produce a fine babe for Simon, my friend. Here, take my hand and squeeze when the pain comes. We shall face this together.”
“I . . . tried . . . to call . . . for you. Too late . . . you had gone to the synagogue. God in His mercy heard my prayer and sent you.”
“How long have the pains come?”
“Two hours. They are seeking Shelomith now.”
“Did I hear my name spoken?” Shelomith appeared at their side with her bag of herbs. The midwife examined Hannah. “It is close. You will not be long in labor with this one.”
“Where is Simon?” Hannah looked around her.
Shelomith snorted. “Where a husband should be at such a time as this . . . outside!” The women laughed and Hannah managed a smile before the next pain convulsed her.
True to the words of Shelomith, Hannah’s son was born within the hour, just after the ending of the Sabbath. He was lusty, red and alive. Marah breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. Shelomith washed the baby and wrapped him in swaddling clothes. Marah presented Simon his son.
“A fine boy, Simon.”
“A son? I have a son?” Tears of joy ran down Simon’s cheeks as he took the baby from Marah and looked down on his small face. “I have a son,” he whispered. Then, he looked up at Marah. “My Hannah . . . she is all right?”
“Yes, my friend. She is all right. You may see her soon.”
Simon handed the baby back to be suckled.
Other neighbors came, and the men clapped Simon on the back. “It is a fine omen for your first child to be a boy . . . and with his parents the age of Simon and Hannah, all the more reason to celebrate.”
Simon poured wine as they toasted the birth of his son. When Hannah was ready, Simon came in slowly and knelt by her bed. There were no words to say aloud, only the silent loving communion of two who know each other well.
Marah sent word to Elon and Caleb that she would be staying with Hannah. Shelomith with her healing herbs also stayed.
“It is hard to lose a child,” Shelomith said softly.
Marah had been gazing down at the baby. She was aware of the longing on her face. Now she looked up at Shelomith. It was the way the midwife had spoken that told her. “You too have lost a child?”
Shelomith nodded. “I was too young. He was stillborn. A beautiful little boy.”
“Oh Shelomith. I never knew. I am so sorry.”
“You have a kind heart. I don’t believe the things they are saying about you. I was with you at the birth and death of your son. I know what you suffered. He was too large for you.” Shelomith’s normally stern face softened for a moment. She turned back to Hannah who was sleeping with the babe at her side. She watched the sleeping woman a moment and turned back to Marah.
“What will you do? There is talk that some of the women make it difficult for you?”
Dorcas quietly joined them. “I saw the care you gave Athaliah. It was a hard task, but you never complained to any of us. You just took care of her. If some of the women want to make fools of themselves, it is to their shame. I am your friend, Marah,” she said, putting her hand on Marah’s arm.
Marah looked at Dorcas and Shelomith and her eyes pooled with tears. How kind these two women were. She felt she had no friends but Simon and Hannah. It was good to know she was not alone.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“So . . . what will you do?”
“I am, ah, making some decisions now.” It was not the time to tell them what she contemplated. It would be wiser to talk to Elon and Caleb first and then Ahmal before he heard gossip in the town. “As soon as I know something, I’m sure it will not be long before all of Shechem knows it too.” She laughed lightly.
“Well,” said Dorcas, “I am sure you will make the right decision.”
Marah looked down at the small cradle that Caleb had made for the baby. Such loving care had gone into it. She looked at the workmanship and saw his father’s skill. Jesse had passed his talent with wood to his son. The very thought of Jesse brought a tightness in her breast and unbidden tears. She chided herself and bustled about putting Hannah’s house in order. After Shelomith left, she fed Simon. Dorcas offered to stay, and Marah gladly agreed. She must talk with Elon and Caleb . . . tonight.
As Marah entered the doorway, Elon looked up anxiously. “We were concerned, Daughter, that you were not here. Hannah is all right?”
She beamed at both of them. “Hannah has a son.”
“Oh Mama, then they will use the cradle I made.”
“Yes, Caleb, they will use it. So now wash, we must have supper and then talk.”
“Talk, Mama? About what?”
She shooed him toward the door. “First you wash, then you eat, and then, I will tell you.”
Elon hurried to wash also. He was hungry.
They watched her face as she served them. When the meal was almost finished, Caleb looked at her expectantly. “What are we going to talk about?”
She sat down slowly and looked at her two men, a growing son and an aging father-in-law. She loved them both, but she wasn’t sure how they would react to her decision. She took a deep breath and told them of Ahmal’s proposal of marriage the night they went to his house for dinner.
“Mama, you did not say anything. Why?” Caleb did not seem to be angry, only puzzled. Elon was thinking quietly.
“This is a very important decision. We would have to leave our home and go to live in the house of Ahmal. Father, you would have a servant to wait on you, and Caleb, you would learn about the trade of merchants. You could still work for Shiva, if you wished.”
Elon looked at her. “Once before I trusted that the one you were to marry was a good man. I didn’t listen to my inner prompting about Haman. You suffered because of my foolish desire to have you marry the man I thought was the son of my brother. I grieved for my own son and watched your deep grief also. You only sought to do the right thing for your son . . . and your husband’s father. I have considered that this might be what Ahmal had spoken to yo
u about, and I have learned all I could about this man. Everything I have heard is good. He pays the merchants on time and cares well for his animals and men. He is generous in the synagogue and does not have a reputation with women. All I have learned, Daughter, is good.”
“Thank you, Elon, for your wise council. And you, Caleb?”
“This time you are asking me, Mama?” He seemed pleased. “I like Ahmal. He does not pretend to be someone he is not. I think he is a good man. I have also heard others say so.”
“Then you will give me your blessing, Elon?”
“Yes, Daughter. I believe this man will be good for you.”
Caleb looked very serious. “Mama, you have my blessing also.”
She hugged her son. “I will send word to Ahmal. He leaves in a few days on his next caravan and will be gone for a couple of months.”
“You will send him on his way a happy man, Daughter. And give him reason to speed his return.”
42
Ahmal indeed went on his journey a happy man. When he returned two months later, he made arrangements for the marriage, and the small family came to live in his home. Elon rented out their small house, for it was Caleb’s inheritance and they would keep it for his future.
This was a time of peace for Marah unlike any she had known since her marriage to Jesse. Because Ahmal was respected in Shechem, Marah was treated well. When she walked through the marketplace with Caleb or one of the servants, the merchants presented their best goods, knowing Ahmal was wealthy.
Caleb fingered a bolt of cloth. At fourteen, he was as tall as Marah and moved with the grace of a young man, rather than an awkward boy. “You should have a tunic made of this, Mother.” Already he had an eye for quality.
“Now what would I do with still another garment, Caleb?” she teased. “Between Ahmal and you, I shall have enough garments for ten women.”
“And you deserve them all.” Caleb grinned. He tossed a coin to the fruit merchant and walked along munching on a handful of dates.
She glanced at him affectionately. He had an insatiable curiosity about things and learned quickly. Ahmal had the necessary papers drawn up and signed in front of witnesses making Caleb his heir. Caleb was touched but, having grown up with little wealth, could not comprehend at the time the generosity of his stepfather. He was never inclined to be arrogant or boastful, and took the event in stride as he did everything else.
“Ahmal’s caravan leaves soon. I wish he would let me go with him.” Caleb’s tone was wistful. “Why will he not let me go? I know his merchandise well and I have proven I can bargain better than Shema. I should be his factor, not Shema.” Caleb pursed his lips.
“You are still young, Caleb. Not only must you be able to bargain well for Ahmal, you must also have the respect of the other merchants. You are growing quickly. Soon you will be a man able to represent Ahmal to the caravans.”
Caleb was not pacified. “But I am ready now, Mother.”
Shaking her head slowly, she turned back toward home. “It was good of you to accompany me, my son. I always feel better knowing you are at my side in the crowds of the marketplace.”
As they entered the courtyard, they were met by Demas, a young slave whom Ahmal rescued from a cruel slave trader. Demas had been beaten badly and was half dead when Ahmal brought him home. Demas, wise enough to know when he was in good surroundings, served Ahmal’s household well. Yet he too longed for places beyond Shechem, and Marah knew that, if he could, he would leave them and return to his home in Laodicea.
“Demas,” Caleb asked, “has my father returned?” Marah marveled at how easily Caleb had taken the role of Ahmal’s son.
Demas answered with deference and respect. “No, Master Caleb, but Eliab prepares for him. We expect him soon.”
Marah observed the two young men. One, tall, broad-shouldered and blond, the other slender and dark. She knew there was a bond between them for Caleb often found excuses for Demas to accompany him on errands and they talked quietly when the work of the day was finished. Suddenly the feeling of apprehension returned. She had not been able to cast it aside. Did it have to do with Demas? She puzzled over the matter for some minutes until she heard voices. Ahmal entered the courtyard gate and with a smile, she moved to greet him.
“My husband, your day has been a successful one?”
He smiled back. “You are as a shaft of sunlight at the end of my day, my heart. If I had known how pleasant it was to be greeted by a beautiful wife when I returned home, I can assure you, I would have married long ago.” He drew her arm through his and they strolled over to the fountain that sparkled with effervescent light as it splashed. “I shall miss you on this next journey.”
“Your words are a comfort, Ahmal.” She sensed the apprehension again. “How long will you be gone this time?”
“Alas, my love, it will be a longer journey than usual . . . perhaps four months.”
“Four months? Why so long?”
“Word has come that the caravan of Marcus was set upon by bandits . . . a raiding party. Many of his men were killed or wounded. His caravan was the one to which I transferred my goods at Iconium. Until he has established a new caravan, I must take our wool and soaps farther to meet another caravan.”
“Must you go, Ahmal? I have this feeling that something is going to happen.” She looked up at him, full of concern.
Touched, he patted her hand. “It is a comfort to my heart that you are concerned for me. But where would merchants such as I be if they neglected their business because their wives ‘had a feeling’?” He chuckled softly.
“Truly, Ahmal, I have not felt something like this since the day Jesse died. I had this same sense of danger.”
“Dear one, I have a large company of well-trained, armed men who travel with me. My caravan is sizable. We are well protected from bandits. Now smile and say that you will wish me good fortune on my journey.”
She pushed the shadows away and looked up into his dear face. “I do wish you good fortune and a safe journey. I shall be anxious for your return.”
“That thought shall speed me home. Now, promise me there shall be no more talk of danger?”
“Yes, my lord, but I shall pray for your safety.”
Ahmal nodded solemnly. “I will be glad for your prayers.”
Eliab soon called them for the evening meal and went in search of Caleb and Demas who had disappeared. A properly chastised Demas soon appeared and hurried to the kitchen under the stern gaze of Eliab. Caleb looked a little sheepish and slipped down next to the table quietly.
“We were only talking of Laodicea, Father,” he offered.
Ahmal nodded sagely, but with a half smile. “You and Demas are friends, my son, but he must not neglect his duties. He is a servant and has work to do.”
Caleb nodded quickly and began to eat.
Marah went to the quarters of Elon. He was still frail and she marveled that he was still alive. Now Demas watched over him making sure he rested and was well fed. He had even gained a small paunch.
“You are well, Father Elon?”
“Ah, Marah. Yes, Daughter, I am well. I fear that young Demas will kill me with kindness.” He waved a thin hand and chuckled. Suddenly he bent over in pain, clutching his chest.
“Demas!” she called, quickly helping him to sit down. “It is your heart, Father?”
He began to breathe easier. “It comes and goes, Daughter. Be not concerned. I shall be all right. It is the ailment of an old man.”
They all came—Ahmal, Caleb, Demas, and Eliab. When Elon was resting comfortably, they left Demas to watch him and went quietly out.
“He has had these spells for years, yet each one I fear for him.”
Ahmal took her hands gently. “We cannot stop life as we cannot stop the wind that blows. These spells come more frequently. One day God will call him.”
Caleb turned and walked quickly away, but not before she had seen the pain in his eyes. He loved his grandfather dearly.
“I shall pray every day for your safe return.”
Ahmal patted her shoulder and headed toward the caravansary.
Marah watched until his figure was lost in the crowd and then turned reluctantly back to the house. She was working on a new weaving. It would be just the thing to take her mind off foolish fears.
43
Caleb still worked at Shiva’s carpenter shop from time to time. He no longer served Shiva as an apprentice. His status had changed with his mother’s marriage and becoming Ahmal’s heir. Many of the merchants deferred to him, not because of his status, but because he had learned well the ways of trading. He was already known in the marketplace as a shrewd bargainer. He was a likable young man, strong in what he believed and undeterred when his mind was set.
This morning Caleb came to Shiva’s to finish a project, a small harp for his mother. Caleb loved trading and desired nothing more than becoming a merchant like Ahmal one day. Yet . . . he loved to work with his hands. The feel of the wood as he created small instruments and hand-carved animals was pleasant to him. The objects he made brought in a little money of his own. He did not wish to deceive his mother, but he had in mind to travel one day, and he had been secretly putting money aside for some time. He was not sure just what he would do, but one day there might be an opportunity, and he would go. Perhaps Demas might accompany him. They had talked in excited whispers when they were sure no one could overhear them.
“So when does Ahmal return?” It was Shiva interrupting his thoughts.
“He was due months ago. It must have taken longer than he thought it would.”
Journey to the Well: A Novel Page 22
