Among the Gods (7 page)

Joshua nodded, his eyes still riveted on the prince, daring him to contradict. “We’ll need a squad of commando fighters to draw the guards away from the king. Help me choose the best men, Hadad. Help me train them.”

“Are you sure you trust me with a weapon?”

When Joshua looked at Hadad and tried to read his face, he couldn’t. Once again Joshua felt the chill of uncertainty. He hesitated, carefully weighing his suspicions about Hadad’s motives against the opportunity for revenge against Manasseh. His hatred, his burning need for vengeance, won the battle.

“I need your help, Hadad, so I’ll have to trust you. We’ll only have a few months to prepare.”

“All right,” he said quietly. “But this island isn’t very big. It will be easier for me if I could live here without seeing your sister.”

Joshua understood. He often saw Yael, the woman he had loved, with her husband and year-old son. Yael was pregnant again. “You can move into your old rooms in the barracks,” Joshua told him. “Dinah lives …” A whisper of doubt stopped him again. He shrugged it aside, remembering his goal to kill Manasseh. “Dinah lives on the other side of the island.”

Hadad’s brief smile lacked emotion. “If everything goes according to plan, we’ll all be living in the palace in Jerusalem again, won’t we, my brothers?”

6

A
MARIAH PACED ACROSS THE MAIN ROOM
of his house, exasperation pushing his patience to the limit. “No, Joshua. I already told you. I don’t want any guards lurking around here. This is my home. Either you trust Hadad or you don’t. And since you’re going ahead with your assassination plans, that obviously means you’ve decided to trust him.”

“The guards would be for Dinah’s sake,” Joshua began.

“She’s
my
wife. It’s
my
job to protect her!”

Joshua raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right, I didn’t mean to offend you. Sorry.”

But Amariah knew by the cold expression on Joshua’s face that his refusal to order extra guards had angered Joshua. He might as well risk angering him further. “Before you leave, Joshua … I’ve been thinking. I’d feel better about this assassination business if you’d ask the priests to consult the Urim and Thummim about it.”

Joshua took a step toward him. Amariah recognized the move as one Joshua always made when he wanted to intimidate an opponent. The maneuver didn’t surprise Amariah, but his pulse quickened all the same. Joshua was not as tall as Amariah was, but the barely controlled anger that had ruled his life these past two years frightened everyone who knew him. His dark eye patch and rugged scar gave him an added ferocity.

“In the first place, we don’t have the Urim and Thummim,” Joshua said. “We left it behind when we fled Jerusalem. And in the second place, we wouldn’t need to consult it even if we did. The Torah makes it very clear that your brother deserves to die.”

“Then why not trust God to deal with him instead of avenging him yourself? According to the king’s chronicles, David had two opportunities to kill King Saul, who was just as guilty of disobeying God as my brother is. But David refused to lay a hand on God’s anointed king. And in due time, God took Saul’s life and placed David on the throne.”

“You’re right, Amariah,” Joshua said coldly. “David didn’t need to kill Saul. God sent his enemies, the Philistines, to do it.” His voice rose to a shout. “And I’m Manasseh’s enemy! God is sending me to kill him!”

Amariah saw that it was no use. He couldn’t compete with Joshua’s agile mind and bitter tongue. “I have one more question, then,” Amariah said quietly. “How do you know that Hadad isn’t leading you into a trap?”

The question seemed to take Joshua by surprise. He paused, stroking his ragged beard. “I suppose it’s something I ought to consider….” But before Joshua had time to weigh the possibility, Dinah interrupted, hurrying in from the courtyard to embrace her brother.

“Joshua! I thought I heard your voice. What brings you here?” Amariah held his breath, silently hoping that Joshua wouldn’t tell her the truth or try to convince her to surround their house with guards. She already knew that Hadad had returned; he didn’t want her to live in fear of him.

“Oh, nothing important,” Joshua said with a shrug. “But as long as I have you both together, we need to talk about your heir. Dinah, it’s vitally important for you to get pregnant within the next few months. Before our mission, if possible.”

Dinah nodded her head, murmuring apologetically, but Amariah was too stunned to speak, outraged that Joshua would dare to interfere in his married life. As Joshua continued to explain the urgent need for an heir, Amariah finally found his voice.

“Get out of my house!”

“What?”

Dinah laid her hand on his arm. “Amariah, please …”

“I want him to leave. Now!”

Joshua stared hard at him for a moment, his anger smoldering like banked coals. Amariah braced himself for an explosion, but it never came. Joshua simply shrugged. “Whatever you say, Your Majesty.” He kissed his sister’s cheek and strode away without another word.

But Amariah couldn’t shrug it off that easily. Joshua’s demands had infuriated him. How dare he interfere in their married life, violating their intimacy, commanding them to produce a son? Amariah was so angry that it took him a moment to realize Dinah had been speaking to him. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “What did you say?”

“I said the servants have your evening meal on the table.”

But Amariah couldn’t eat, sickened by Joshua’s audacity. Was this the way the rest of his life would be, with Joshua giving all the orders, dictating his every move? Amariah had longed to escape from Manasseh’s authority and live his own life, make his own decisions. But he had merely exchanged one taskmaster for another.

“I’m not hungry,” he told Dinah. “I need to get some air.” He left the house and started walking—anywhere, nowhere.

The worst thing about living on an island, he quickly discovered, was that he couldn’t walk very far without coming to the end of it. And the worst thing about being that island’s leader was meeting people who wanted to talk when the last thing in the world he felt like doing was talking. After barely an hour, he gave up the search for solitude and returned home.

As the evening wore on and the servants retired to their own homes for the night, Amariah found himself dreading the moment when he would have to go to bed with his wife. He sat in the main room of his house alone, watching as evening faded into night and the room’s familiar furnishings disappeared into the shadows, wishing he could disappear along with them. His life was not his own. He wondered if it ever would be.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting in the dark when a beam of light flickered in the gloom and Dinah entered, carrying a small lamp. He shaded his eyes with his hand, shielding them from the lamp’s glow and from her scrutiny.

“Oh … I wondered if you’d fallen asleep out here,” she said.

“No. I’m awake.”

“Why don’t you come to bed?”

Amariah sighed and rubbed his eyes. “All right.” He slowly pulled himself to his feet and started to follow her, then stopped. Joshua had demanded an heir and she was determined to obey him. The thought sickened Amariah.

“Dinah, wait.”

She turned to him. The light was between them, and she studied his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s supposed to be an act of love,” he said softly, “but it’s not. They’ve turned it into an act of vengeance.”

She lowered her head, and her dark hair fell around her face, hiding her eyes. Amariah took the lamp from her and set it on a stand, then reached for her hand.

“Come with me, Dinah.”

“Where?”

He led her through the door and out into the narrow street without answering. A transparent moon bathed the warm night with light and formed pale gray shadows beneath their feet. He walked with her toward the river, to a sandy stretch of shoreline where he knew there was little danger of crocodiles. An abandoned rowboat lay upside down on the beach, and Amariah pulled Dinah down beside him on the warm sand so they could lean their backs against it.

“Look,” he whispered, pointing. At the end of the beach where the marshlands began, a crane poked its head from among the reeds, then ventured cautiously forward. A moment later his mate followed, tottering on stick-legs almost too fragile to support her. Their gossamer feathers glowed in the moonlight.

“They’re beautiful,” Dinah murmured.

“I wish we were like them,” Amariah said. “They’re free.”

They watched the cranes wade farther into the river, away from the marsh; then the birds suddenly took flight, soaring magnificently toward the mainland, wings outstretched. Amariah longed to do the same, to open his heart like wings, to freely soar.

“What’s your favorite color, Dinah?” he asked when the birds were out of sight.

“My favorite color? Why?”

“Because I need to know.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and began again. “When we lived in my brother’s palace in Jerusalem, our lives weren’t our own. We belonged to Manasseh. He controlled where we went, who we saw, what we did … and I realized tonight that he still controls us. We married each other because of him. I’m supposed to rule this island because of him. You’re supposed to have a baby because of him. Our lives still aren’t our own, Dinah. No one ever asks us what
we
want.”

He tossed the weathered piece of driftwood he had been toying with into the water. It washed toward him on the waves several times, bobbing in the moonlight, before floating out of sight.

“I have my father’s blood in my veins—King David’s blood. According to Joshua, that means I’m obligated to stop Manasseh. Obligated to father your son. Obligated to be king. But I’m more than Hezekiah’s son, more than Manasseh’s brother, more than David’s heir. I’m a man—Amariah. I’m myself, separate from everyone’s obligations and expectations. Why do I have to define my life in terms of filling a need? Can’t I have a purpose of my own choosing?”

He put his hand to his face, pressing his fingers against his closed eyes. Then he looked at Dinah again. She had unpinned her hair for the night before they’d left the house, and the breeze blew wisps of it across her face.

“And what about you, Dinah? Are you merely the means by which I claim my brother’s throne? Are you only Manasseh’s concubine? Amariah’s wife? The mother of the future king?” He brushed her hair away from her eyes in a gesture of tenderness that he seldom dared to express. “You’re a woman—a flesh and blood person, with real feelings and needs. Don’t you have any dreams and hopes? Or is revenge the only one?” He saw confusion and pain in her eyes, and he turned away from her to stare into the water again.

“I know you didn’t marry me because you love me. The real Amariah doesn’t matter to you. I never did. I’m Manasseh’s brother, your means of revenge. That’s all our marriage is based on, do you realize that? Revenge. What was meant to be the most tender act of love between a man and woman is merely an act of vengeance for us.”

Dinah shuddered. He wondered if it was from the cool night air or from his words. “I’m sorry,” she whispered after a moment. “But what else can we do?”

“I don’t know…. I don’t expect you to ever love me, but can’t we at least … ?” He stopped, unable to find the words he wanted.

She turned his face toward hers. “Tell me.”

“Can’t we at least be ourselves with each other? Can’t we give each other that one gift, even if no one else does? Everyone else might think of us as ‘Manasseh’s brother’ and ‘Manasseh’s concubine,’ but I can let you be just ‘Dinah’ to me. And you can let me be ‘Amariah.’ Maybe someday you’ll fall in love with the real Amariah, maybe not. It doesn’t matter. I’d be happy just to know … to know that you liked me for myself.” He took her hands in his. “No matter how everyone else defines us, we need to hang on to the small haven we can create for each other and not let them take it away from us.”

She let go of his hand to wipe her tears. “How?” she whispered. “How do we do that?”

“We’ve already begun. We’ve left their bedroom, left their expectations for us … and we’re here—on a sandy beach, with warm water and starlight. When we were watching the cranes a few minutes ago, we weren’t thinking about Manasseh or revenge or anything else except how beautiful they were, how perfect they looked in the moonlight. We need to forget about everything else when we’re together. Forget the past and all that Manasseh has done to us, forget the future—producing an heir, governing the nation. We can live right now—in the present. I want that to be the only thing that’s real to us.” He waited until her eyes met his. “What do you want to do
now,
this very moment?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I know what I want to do.” He stood and kicked off his sandals, then shrugged off his outer robe and waded into the river in his tunic. “The water’s warm, Dinah. It feels like silk. Come on, try it.”

He held out his hand to her and waited. After a moment, she untied her sandals and waded out to him, lifting her skirts above her knees. They walked together along the shore, the water lapping around their ankles.

“I want to learn the names of all the birds and all the trees and all the stars,” Amariah said. “I want to play the lyre again and compose songs like I used to do. Maybe I’ll sing one of them for you sometime.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He stopped walking and faced her. “What’s your favorite color?”

Dinah’s eyes met his, and it seemed as if she finally saw him for himself. “Green,” she said softly.

“That’s my favorite color, too.” He smiled. It felt good to smile. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had. He took her hand in his, twining their fingers together. “Green … like the trees and the fields and the grass.”

7

T
HE SOUND OF CLASHING SWORDS RANG
in Joshua’s ears as he stood in the courtyard of the fort watching Hadad drill his troops. The men revered Hadad and had welcomed him back with great enthusiasm. He was an excellent commander and always eager to join in with their sparring. As each day passed, Joshua felt less suspicious of him.

When Hadad spotted Joshua watching, he quickly ordered his men to form ranks, then strode to where Joshua waited. “I weeded out all but the best,” Hadad said, still breathless with exertion. “Here’s our top sixty men.”

“Do they know about our mission?”

Hadad shook his head. “I’ll let you tell them.”

Joshua straightened his eye patch as he stepped in front of the assembly. The murmuring quickly fell silent. “I’m told that you’re the best,” he began. “And for the mission Colonel Hadad and I are planning, we’ll need the best. But this is a volunteer assignment. Like Gideon’s small, elite corps, we’ll be up against much greater odds—some would say impossible odds. So I’ll tell you the same thing Gideon told his troops: Anyone who is uncertain, anyone who has commitments to his family or spouse, anyone who is uncomfortable with this mission for any reason is free to go. No one will think any less of you. This may not be your battle, that’s all.”

He studied their faces. They all looked much too young. “For those of you who decide to volunteer, I can assure you that your job will be dangerous. Some of you may die.” As he paused, he saw their zeal and also their admiration and awe of him. “Our goal,” he said quietly, “is to assassinate King Manasseh.” Shock and surprise rippled across the courtyard like a wave. He waited until it ebbed. “When Manasseh is dead, our families can all return home. Judah will be our homeland once again.”

As a spontaneous cheer went up, Joshua realized that they were almost as homesick for Judah as he was. They had lived more than a year in Egypt, but for Joshua, more than two years had passed since the night he had left his father’s house to eat dinner with Yael and had never returned.

“Take the next few days to think it over,” he continued. “If you decide to volunteer, we’ll only have about three months to train and develop the teamwork we’ll need before we begin our journey north. Three days from now, Colonel Hadad will draw up a final roster of volunteers. Until then, you’re dismissed.”

As the courtyard emptied, he motioned for Hadad to follow him inside. “We need to finish planning the final details of the mission,” Joshua said. “I’ve persuaded Amariah to join us.”

“Has he finally decided to come with us?”

“No, but I convinced him that the assassination is going to take place, with or without his cooperation, so he may as well listen in on our plans.”

The prince was already waiting for them in the small room overlooking the practice yard, gazing out of the window like a prisoner. Joshua wondered if he’d been watching Hadad’s soldiers drilling. Amariah kept his back turned as Joshua and Hadad took their places on opposite sides of a small table.

“How many men do you think will volunteer?” Joshua asked.

Hadad stroked his smooth chin. “I’m hoping only about half.”

“Half! That won’t be enough. We’ll need at least forty men. I’d prefer all sixty.”

“That’s too many,” Hadad said. “We can’t smuggle that many men into the country without arousing suspicion, not to mention hiding them all at the ambush site.”

“I saw one of Manasseh’s processions a year ago,” Joshua said. “He has dozens of bodyguards with him. And his troops are experienced. Ours aren’t.”

“We can do it with twenty men, Joshua.”

“No, that’s not enough!” Joshua’s temper slipped from his grasp, and as he struggled to recapture it, Amariah suddenly turned to face them.

“Why don’t you argue about it after you see how many men volunteer?”

Joshua gaped at the prince in surprise. “That’s a good idea,” he said after a moment. He took another moment to gather his thoughts, then asked, “What else do we need to decide, Hadad?”

“I scouted out a site for the ambush before I left Judah and found a place along the road west of Jerusalem that I think will work.” He spread out a piece of parchment on the table in front of them, sketching as he talked. “The road curves around a hill, like this. Manasseh’s men won’t be able to see our ambush ahead of time, but we can watch their approach from the top of the ridge. On the other side of the road is a sheer drop-off. They’ll have no escape.”

Joshua’s pulse quickened at the prospect of revenge. “I think I remember that place. Go on.”

“We’ll wait until Manasseh rounds the curve, then our archers will fire the first volley from the top of the hill, taking out as many bodyguards as possible.”

“Tell them to concentrate their fire on the guards surrounding the king,” Joshua said.

“Right. We’ll split our forces into thirds—the archers on top of the hill will make one group, those setting up the ambush around the curve will make the second, and the third will dig in along the road to cut off the king’s retreat after the ambush.”

“I want to kill Manasseh myself,” Joshua said.

“I figured you would.” When Hadad smiled slightly, Joshua recognized something familiar in his expression, something he couldn’t quite define.

“Listen, Hadad, once Manasseh is dead, I want all our men to scatter. There’s no sense risking their lives against a superior foe any longer than we need to.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? You’ll be putting yourself at greater risk.”

“I’m positive,” Joshua said. “You can devise a signal that will tell our men when to retreat. And we’ll need a location where we can regroup later.”

“The logical place would be the hideout where Amariah will be waiting.”

“I don’t want any part of this,” Amariah said from his place near the window ledge. “I’ll be waiting right here in Egypt.”

“We won’t involve you in the battle,” Hadad said, “but we’ll need to anoint you as king immediately. We can’t wait several months for you to travel back to Jerusalem from Egypt.”

“Hadad is right,” Joshua said. “The country can’t be without a leader that long. You’ll need to assume power immediately as the rightful heir.” He saw a look of dismay cross Amariah’s face at the prospect of becoming king, and Joshua’s anger soared. “You’re coming with us! This is God’s will!” he shouted. When Amariah didn’t reply, Joshua signaled for Hadad to continue.

“I found a small cave in the area. It’s right about here on the map. Amariah can wait there with Dinah while—”

Joshua leaped to his feet. “Dinah? Who said anything about Dinah?”

“Absolutely not!” Amariah cried at the same time. “Dinah stays here until I’m well established in Jerusalem and all the turmoil has died down!”

Hadad’s rage exploded. He shoved the table away from him, scattering everything on it and startling everyone into silence. “You said you needed Dinah to solidify Amariah’s claim to the throne! Was that a lie? Now all of a sudden you don’t need her anymore?”

Joshua knew he had to defuse the situation quickly and saw only one way to do it. He couldn’t let his plans fall apart now. “Hadad is right. Dinah needs to come with us.”

“No!” Amariah shouted. “How can you even think about endangering her life? I won’t allow it!” He turned to storm from the room, but Joshua grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back.

“Do you think for one minute that I would do anything to endanger my sister’s life?”

“I love her more than both of you do,” Hadad said. “You know I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Amariah’s face was pale. “Dinah stays here, or I stay here, too.”

Once again, Joshua felt his anger slipping from his grasp. If he had to, he would shackle Amariah and carry him to Judah in a sack. Then he thought of a more reasonable idea. “I think we ought to let Dinah decide if she wants to come or not.”

“No! She’s my wife! I decide what happens to her, and I say she stays here. What does she know about fighting battles and fleeing from danger? You can’t expect her to travel with an army or camp out with a bunch of men.”

“I’ll ask Miriam to accompany us and take care of Dinah,” Joshua said. “Miriam is resourceful. She’s helped me twice now, and she’s proven that she can stay calm and think on her feet.”

“No,” Hadad said suddenly. “It’s not fair to use Miriam to fight any more of our battles.”

Joshua stared at him in surprise, wondering why he was so concerned about her. “I’ll only use her if she volunteers, okay?” Joshua said. “Like the rest of our troops.”

“Why should she volunteer? What’s in it for her?” Hadad asked. “She’ll agree because she’s good-hearted, but you’ve never done anything in return for all her help except provide food and a roof over her head.”

“How can you say that? I’ve made her part of my family—”

“She saved your life, Joshua—twice! For that you’ve allowed her the honor of being your family’s servant!”

“That’s unfair.”

“Is it? If she’s really part of your family, why haven’t you been as concerned about finding her a respectable husband as you were about finding one for Dinah?”

“I guess it never occurred to me. She seems a little young.”

“That’s because you still see her as the child she was two years ago. She’s a grown woman, Joshua. Take a good look at her for once.”

Joshua recalled Nathan’s accusation that he treated Miriam like dirt, and the dull ache of guilt returned. Hadad was right. He still thought of Miriam as a servant, as Maki’s daughter, and he never gave her a moment’s thought until he needed her. Joshua knew he needed her now.

“I’ll admit there’s a lot of truth to what you’re saying, Hadad.”

“Well, don’t use her again. Stop taking her for granted. Before you ask her to volunteer, have the decency to tell her what’s in it for her besides a thank-you.”

Joshua saw his simple plan growing more complicated by the minute. He needed to focus on his goal and concentrate all his energies on killing Manasseh. Perhaps in time the other details would straighten out by themselves.

Miriam stared into the muddy waters of the Nile as she stood on the dock, waiting for the ferry that would take her to the mainland to see her brother Nathan. In a few days she would be traveling to Judah on these flood-swollen waters, and she needed to say goodbye to him before she left. As the seabirds swooped above her, crying raucously, she wondered again what miracle had made Joshua suddenly notice her and ask for her help. She watched the ferry approach, remembering how earnest his handsome face had been as he’d warned her of the dangers she would face. He couldn’t have known that she would walk into Sheol itself for him. As she moved to get in line with the other passengers, someone called her name.

“Miriam … wait!”

She turned, surprised to see Hadad hurrying toward her. Miriam knew that he’d returned to Elephantine Island almost four months ago, but she hadn’t seen him since that terrible Passover night when he’d asked for Dinah’s hand. The changes she saw in him now startled her. She’d known him drunk and sober, angry and content, in love and in pain, but something about the haunted emptiness she saw in his eyes frightened her now. And she’d never been afraid of Hadad before.

“Did Joshua tell you we’re leaving for Judah in a few days?” he asked without a word of greeting.

“Yes, he asked me to go with him.”

Hadad cursed. “Is that what he said? Go with
him
?” His anger alarmed Miriam. She took a step back.

“Not exactly. I’m going to accompany Dinah. We’re the only women who are going, and—”

Hadad kicked a discarded piece of sacking and sent it flying into the water, accompanied by more curses. “Don’t do it, Miriam! Don’t go!”

“Why not? What are you so angry about, Hadad?”

“He’s using you, and he has no right to do that. I know because he used me the same way. When he needs something he makes you think you’re his friend, but the truth is, he considers himself superior to you and me. We’re beneath him.”

“Because we have no name?”

Hadad nodded. For a brief moment his eyes lost their empty look as they searched hers. “I know you’re in love with him, Miriam.”

“I am not!” She looked away, her cheeks burning.

“Don’t try to deny it. I figured out the truth a long time ago—when you followed Jerimoth’s caravan from Moab to Jerusalem. I was there when Joshua raged at you for tagging along. I heard all the terrible things he said to you. Yet you still risked your life to wade through all that carnage at the Temple and drag him out of there.”

Miriam stared at the ground, ashamed. She thought no one else but Jerusha knew of her love for Joshua. She couldn’t look at Hadad, but he lifted her chin, forcing her to face him.

“He isn’t worthy of you, Miriam. Your motives are pure; you’re helping him because you’re in love with him. But he’s only using you. There’s no room in his heart for you or anyone else. Did he tell you what will happen if our mission is successful? If he assassinates King Manasseh?”

“He said we’d be able to move back home again and—”

“What about you? What did he promise you for helping him?”

Miriam was ashamed to feel tears brimming in her eyes. “Hadad, don’t. Please.”