On This Foundation (28 page)

J
ERUSALEM

W
e're here to make preparations for a counterattack,” Nehemiah told the handful of men gathered around the worktable in his private chambers. They were men he was certain were on his side, men who wouldn't betray his confidence. “I'm not satisfied to simply post guards and wait in fear behind miles of unfinished walls. Two of my workers were ruthlessly killed, and I won't allow any more of our people to become helpless victims. So along with stationary guards, I've decided to go on the offensive. If we can figure out the most likely places for the next attacks to occur, we can send armed volunteers outside the city wall to take our enemies by surprise and confront them head-on. I'll need men who are willing to fight for their brothers, their sons and daughters, their wives and homes.”

He saw nods of agreement all around the table as he spread out his map, anchoring the corners of the scroll with clay weights. “I think most of you know Yehuda ben Aaron, the man who organized the defense of Jerusalem twenty-eight years ago on the Thirteenth of Adar. I've asked him to share his insights with us and the strategy he used to defend the city.”

Yehuda rose to his feet. He was nearly seventy now, but still hearty and vigorous, with receding white hair and a sturdy build. He gazed at the men around the table with piercing gray eyes that seemed to miss nothing. “Back then, we knew we didn't stand a chance unless the Holy One helped us. The wall was in ruins and there were no gates, of course. We couldn't possibly defend all of the many breaches, so we decided to think like our enemies and figure out where they were most likely to attack.”

“And we should do the same,” Nehemiah said. “Let's put ourselves in their place and imagine which strategy they would use. Remember, their aim is to instill fear and halt construction, not to conquer the city and plunder it like on the Thirteenth of Adar.” He saw nods of agreement from the men around the table.

“Back then,” Yehuda continued, pointing to the parchment map, “we guessed that the enemy wouldn't approach the city from the east. The ridge is too steep on that side, and they would risk being seen as they crossed the Kidron Valley or marched up the steep slope.”

“I agree,” Nehemiah said. “I'm also posting fewer guards on that side. They're able to see for a considerable distance from that height and can sound the alarm if an attack does come.”

“The northern approach by the temple has always been our most vulnerable one,” Yehuda said. “We concentrated our forces there on the Thirteenth of Adar, knowing that our enemy was motivated by greed. They hoped for easy gain by plundering the temple treasuries.”

“That's where this threat is different,” Nehemiah said. “Sanballat and our other enemies want power, not gold. I doubt they would risk the Almighty One's wrath by attacking His temple. Besides, Sanballat has connections by marriage with the high priest and wouldn't want to jeopardize that. Even so, the Levite guards are preparing to defend the temple gates on the northern side. Our builders have made enough progress on one of the towers for it to serve as a useful lookout post.”

Yehuda nodded and looked at the map again, tracing his finger down the long stretch of wall on the western side. “This approach was our secondary concern. The wall was so broken-down, with so many gaps, that we knew the enemy could easily slip through them. Not only that, but the ruined houses and buildings in the deserted Mishneh provided plenty of cover for a sneak attack. We were forced to spread out a good portion of our forces on that side of the city. On the Thirteenth of Adar we stationed the men by families, knowing they would fight harder to protect their flesh and blood.”

“Good idea. I'll follow your example,” Nehemiah said. He glanced at his brothers but already knew he had no intention of putting either of them in danger or allowing them to fight alongside him. “Fortunately for us, there are fewer gaps in the western wall now. But you're right, Yehuda—the Mishneh still provides plenty of cover for a sneak attack, especially at night. And that's what they're after—a surprise attack and a quick retreat. They hope to kill a few more of us and terrify everyone else into quitting. If they can distract us from building and force us to exhaust all our manpower defending the city, construction will stop. Let's prepare for an assault on the western side of the city and concentrate our forces at the Fish Gate, the Yeshana Gate, and the Valley Gate.”

“Very wise,” Yehuda said. “I agree with that decision. Now that still leaves the possibility of an approach from the south, at the Dung Gate. The land drops off steeply to the Hinnom Valley, but on the Thirteenth of Adar we decided to send some of our forces down there, just in case. We were glad we did.”

“The Dung Gate is your territory, Malkijah,” Nehemiah said. “I'll let you prepare however you think best for an enemy strike.” He considered him a shrewd, trustworthy ally.

Malkijah nodded. “Thank you, Governor. My workers and I have already put a few measures into place.”

Nehemiah stood and took a step back from the table, too
restless to remain seated like the other men. “I refuse to sit behind the wall and wait to be surprised. I intend to send small counterforces out at night along each of the main routes. We'll set up ambushes on high ground overlooking the paths that the enemy might use for a surprise attack.”

“How long can you keep that up?” Ephraim asked. “Who knows when they'll come?”

“True,” he told his brother. “But as it happens, two nights from now there won't be a moon. That's when I would attack if I were our enemies. I'm looking for volunteers from this group to command each of these counterforces.”

The number of men who quickly volunteered buoyed Nehemiah's spirits. He appointed a commander to cover each possible attack route, then said, “I'll take charge of the approach to the Valley Gate myself. The rest of you, have your men find a high place where they can keep watch and stay undercover. When you see the enemy approaching, come out of hiding and fight. They're counting on the element of surprise, so let's surprise them instead. But don't give chase if they retreat unless you're certain you aren't outnumbered.” He dismissed them to gather their men, adding, “Make sure you only recruit volunteers. Those who are too afraid to fight are better off standing guard behind the walls.”

As soon as the men left, Ephraim grabbed Nehemiah's arm from behind and swung him around to face him. “Hey! Why didn't you appoint us to be your commanders?”

“You can't protect us all our lives,” Hanani said, moving in from the other side. “We aren't children. We want to fight with you!”

The thought of his brothers facing a band of armed men in the dead of night turned Nehemiah's stomach. His instinct to protect them was still as strong as it had been on the night their parents had been murdered. “You're scribes, not soldiers, and—”

“Neither are any of these other men!” Ephraim shouted.

They were furious with him. Nehemiah needed to calm them down. “Listen, you're my two right-hand men. I need you to help me lead the people, and I won't put you in danger—”

Ephraim interrupted with a scornful huff. “And yet you're fighting—and you're the governor! That makes no sense! What if
you
die? Or are you somehow immortal now?”

Nehemiah couldn't explain his irrational need to confront his enemies head-on instead of cowering and hiding. He had to fight, even if it didn't make sense. “I have military training, and you don't. I was taught to use a sword in order to guard the Persian king, remember? I don't intend to die, Ephraim, but if I do, I'll need the two of you to take my place. You must finish rebuilding the wall for me. You know how to proceed with the work better than anyone else in this city.”

“Our father didn't intend to die, either,” Ephraim said, “but he did. I'm volunteering to fight, and you'd better not try to stop me.” He strode toward the door and yanked it open.

“What about your family? Your children?”

“That's who I'm fighting for!”

A heavy stone sank to the bottom of Nehemiah's gut as he watched his brother storm from the room. Short of tying him up with ropes, he was powerless to stop him. The psalmist's words had run through Nehemiah's mind ever since the Levites sang them in the temple this morning and he thought of them now:
“Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in
vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen
stand guard in vain.”

Were he and his men standing guard in vain? Was the Almighty One behind their plans to build and defend Jerusalem's wall, or wasn't He? Where was the balance between trusting God to defend his loved ones and taking the initiative himself? If he was honest, Nehemiah knew that his overpowering instinct to protect his brothers stemmed from the fact that God hadn't protected their parents on that long-ago night. And he
was failing to trust God now, fearful of placing his brothers in His hands and allowing them to fight. Had Nehemiah saved his brothers that night—or had God?

“I'm worried that Ephraim will do something foolhardy just to prove he doesn't need my protection,” he told Hanani.

His brother lifted the weights off the corners of the scroll and slowly rolled it up. “Let him alone, Nehemiah. He has a good instinct for self-preservation. All three of us do.”

Nehemiah had tried all his life to be the strong, courageous older brother, to not let Ephraim and Hanani see his doubts and fears. But the flood of opposition that had come against him since he'd begun to build the wall—the ridicule of their enemies, the work stoppage, and now the deaths of two of his workers—slowly eroded his faith like the banks of a storm-swollen river. He needed to confide in someone. “Hanani . . . have you ever figured out why God sometimes allows evil to win?”

“Are you thinking of our parents?”

“I am.”

“I've thought about that a lot over the years,” Hanani said with a sigh, “and the only conclusion I've come to is that in some instances, we're incapable of understanding the Almighty One's reasons. We just have to trust that He has a plan, even if we can't see it.”

“That's the difficult part—trusting.”

“I've often wondered if Ephraim and I would be the men we are today if Mama and Abba had lived. If we would be living here in the land of our ancestors, raising our children here—and if you'd be here rebuilding the wall, for that matter. Or would we all be in Susa, serving a godless king instead of the Almighty One. We'll never know, of course. But here we are. And isn't that what faith is all about—believing in the Almighty One's goodness, believing that if He doesn't answer our immediate prayers, it's because He has larger, richer answers?”

Nehemiah remembered being filled with faith in the beginning,
trusting that he'd heard from God and that His hand was upon him to accomplish His work. Now his enemies were doing their best to undermine his faith and keep him from his God-given task. Nehemiah made up his mind to persevere. To not allow his two workers' deaths to be in vain. He rested his hand on his brother's shoulder for a moment in silent thanks. “The wall is only half built, Hanani. Let's go finish it.”

J
ERUSALEM

R
elief washed over Nava when she finally spotted Dan climbing the stairs to the temple. He wore a sword strapped to his belt wherever he went, even when he came here to worship. He looked weary plodding up the steps, as if they were coated with honey and his sandals stuck to each one. The workmen now took turns building the wall and standing guard, and she could see that the heavy labor coupled with little sleep had drained Dan's strength. Nava ignored the flow of morning worshipers and hurried down the stairs in the opposite direction to meet him. “Dan! I've been so afraid for you. You look exhausted.”

“I am, more than in our busiest harvest season. But it feels good to finally fight back against our enemies.”

“Fight? You didn't tell me you had to fight.”

“Well, I haven't fought yet, but . . .” He lowered his voice. “I may one of these nights.” They reached the top of the steps, and he drew her aside. “I'm telling you this in confidence, Nava. The governor doesn't want the whole city to know about it. But he asked for volunteers to be part of a special force. We're going
outside the walls every night to surprise the enemy before they have a chance to attack us.”

“Don't volunteer, Dan. It's too dangerous.”

“I have to fight. I need to protect you.”

Nava wanted to plead with him not to go, to stay inside the walls where it was safe. But she'd seen how Dan's anger toward Malkijah grew and festered more and more each day. He needed an outlet for it before it destroyed him.

“I'm so tired of waiting,” he had told her a few days ago. “Tired of being patient. I could kill Malkijah with my bare hands for keeping you his bondservant and refusing to cancel our debts.”

Nava had tried to convince him that if Malkijah died, his son Aaron would inherit everything. “And believe me, everything would be much worse if that happened,” she'd said.

Now they hurried across the courtyard to watch the sacrifice, which had already begun. Nava tried to pay attention, but her thoughts kept drifting back to what Dan had just told her and the danger he would be in. When it was time for prayer, Governor Nehemiah reminded the people of the need to ask the Almighty One for His help against their enemies. The people bowed their heads as the priest entered the sanctuary to light the incense, but Nava still couldn't pray. She didn't understand the Almighty One. Her family had prayed for rain for two long years, and it had never come. God could have set her free when the other wealthy landowners had shown mercy, but He hadn't softened her master's heart. She was still a bondservant. Was the Holy One angry with her? If so, she didn't understand why. Her faith had become as dry and lifeless as her father's drought-stricken land, her heart an empty well, where there was no more hope to draw from. The only comfort she found was in having Dan beside her every day, lanky and sun-browned and strong. At least they could be together for a few minutes each morning in the temple courtyard.

They said good-bye in their usual parting place, and that afternoon Nava helped prepare dinner for Malkijah and a guest. Her master had been on guard duty at the Dung Gate for two full days and hadn't returned home to eat or sleep during that time. She noticed dark hollows beneath his eyes as she carried platters of food and serving dishes in and out of the dining area and set them on the table in front of him. But she felt no pity for him, her anger seething like a brew of bitter herbs.

“Let's not waste time on small talk,” Malkijah told his guest. “I need to return to my duties at the gate. Tell me why you asked to see me.” His abrupt manner surprised Nava. Her master was usually a smiling, gracious host. The stranger seated across from him didn't seem perturbed by his rudeness.

“Very well. It has come to my attention that you didn't take the vow along with the other leaders to cancel your debtors' mortgages or free your bondservants.”

Nava went still, a flush of anger rising to her face at his words. She was supposed to return to the kitchen after setting bowls of olives and figs on the table, but she lingered outside the doorway to listen.

“If you've come to accuse me of greed and coldheartedness, I've heard it all before,” Malkijah said angrily. “From people I care about, no less. My current financial obligations make it impossible for me to give everything back.”

“You've misjudged me, Malkijah,” the man said calmly. “I didn't take Nehemiah's absurd oath, either.”

Silence. Then Malkijah said, “My mistake. Please forgive me.”

“You're not alone, you know. There are more of us than you think who refuse to be swayed by our governor's political maneuverings. And we've taken a different kind of oath.”

“Go on . . .”

The man chuckled. “I need to know where your loyalties are,
first. I understand you not only serve on Nehemiah's council but you're part of his inner circle. One of his military commanders.”

“That's true, I am. Which is why I need to cut this dinner short tonight and return to my post.”

“Does the governor know you didn't take his oath to free your servants or cancel their debts?”

Nava strained to hear his reply. Maybe the governor would intervene if he learned the truth about Malkijah.

“I haven't told him,” Malkijah replied. “If he heard it from someone else, he hasn't spoken to me about it. As far as I'm concerned, it's none of his business—and I would tell him that to his face. He has no idea what it takes to run an estate like mine.”

“I'm not sure Nehemiah knows much at all about life here in our province.”

“I follow the Torah to the letter of the law,” Malkijah said heatedly. “I don't charge interest on my loans, and I give food and loans to all the farmers in my district who are in need. Nehemiah has no authority to compel me to cancel all the debts that are owed to me or to free my bondservants. It's impossible for me to do any of those things without putting my own interests at risk.”

Nava's anger was building along with her master's. She risked a peek around the doorway and saw him leaning forward to face his guest, his face flushed. She quickly turned back and flattened herself against the wall where he couldn't see her. If he or the housekeeper caught her eavesdropping she would be in trouble, but Nava didn't care. She wanted to hear his stingy, coldhearted excuses for herself.

“Oh, I understand what you're saying, Malkijah,” his guest replied. “I understand completely. I didn't take the governor's vow for the very same reasons. And I know several other men, members of the nobility, who are in the same situation we are. You aren't alone.”

“That's good to know.”

Nava heard the soft clinking of tableware as she waited. She was about to return to the kitchen when Malkijah's guest said, “There is a group of noblemen who have decided to band together to stop the governor and oppose his ridiculous demands. We thought you might be interested in joining us. And if there are other men you know of who feel the same as we do—perhaps such as your future father-in-law—we're hoping you'll use your influence to sway them to our side. Shallum is a powerful man here in Jerusalem and could be a great help to our cause.”

“Who else is part of this group?”

“Ah,” the man said. “That's where the oath I mentioned comes in. We need assurances that if we take you into our confidence we won't be betrayed.”

“And I need to know who and what I'm swearing to before I'll give you my word.”

The room was silent. Nava risked another peek. Both men sat forward in their seats, staring at each other. “I see,” Malkijah's guest finally said. Nava watched as he leaned back and lifted his cup to take a drink of wine, then she turned away again. She shouldn't stay here and listen a moment longer. But the governor was a hero to her and to all the other poor people, and she was furious that these two men were conspiring against him.

“The quality of your wine is legendary, my friend,” Malkijah's guest said. “It lives up to everything I've heard about it.”

“Thank you.”

“It would be a tragedy if it could no longer be produced. We've both seen how Governor Nehemiah craves the adulation of the masses. He has become a tyrant, willing to do anything to win their support. So let me ask you this: What would happen to you and to your vineyard if the governor turned his request into law? If he
demanded
that you free all your servants? Wouldn't you want
a powerful group of nobles and fellow landowners on your side to fight his tyranny? Men who could successfully oppose him?”

“Do you think it will come to that? Could Nehemiah compel us to obey him?”

“Of course he could. He's the governor. He has the backing of a godless Persian king. He could compel us to do anything he wants.” There was another long silence before the guest spoke again. “The men I represent have transferred our allegiance to a proven leader, a man who knows this province and our people and our financial obligations very well. We've been in constant communication with him ever since Nehemiah arrived. With backing from you and other influential men, we'll be in a position to get rid of the governor and replace him with a leader of our own choosing.”

Again, there was a long silence. “I can't give you an answer tonight,” Malkijah said. “I need time to decide. This isn't something to take lightly.”

“I understand.”

“You've trusted me this far—can you trust me with the name of at least one other member of this group besides you?”

There was another long pause. “Shecaniah ben Arah.”

“I see. Powerful indeed. My estate is nothing compared to his.”

Nava repeated the name over and over in her mind to memorize it as she hurried back to the kitchen. She had been gone much too long as it was. She still didn't know the guest's name, but she'd heard enough of the conversation to understand that Governor Nehemiah needed to be warned about what the men had discussed. She greatly admired the governor for helping the poor and she resented selfish, rich men like her master and his guest more than ever.

She waited for Dan at the temple the next morning, eager to tell him everything she'd heard, but he wasn't standing in their usual meeting place at the top of the stairs when she arrived.
Nava stayed there instead of moving into the courtyard with the other worshipers, and her fear for his safety began to flare and spread like a grassfire. If something happened to him, how would she ever know? They might tell his family in Beth Hakkerem, but how would they get word to her? When the sacrifice ended and the flow of worshipers began streaming toward her, Nava was still waiting, staring down toward the Mishneh where Dan stood guard, heartsick with fear.

“Nava . . . do you have a moment to talk?”

She turned at the sound of her name. Her master's fiancée—her new mistress—stood beside her. “Yes, miss. Of course.”

“I'll catch up with you,” Chana told the other women who were with her. She and Nava stepped to one side. “I wanted to tell you that I spoke with Malkijah about not setting you and his other servants free. He explained to me that it was impossible to do right now—”

“And you believed him?” Anger and fear made Nava bold. She had nothing more to lose.

Chana blinked in surprise. “I . . . I have no choice but to believe him. I don't know how to run an estate as large as his. I'm so sorry I couldn't be more help to you—”

“He isn't the man you think he is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last night I served dinner to him and a guest. This guest said there is a group of rich men and nobles who haven't taken the governor's oath, and he asked Master Malkijah to join their conspiracy to oppose the governor. They called Nehemiah a tyrant and said they've chosen someone else to replace him as governor.”

Chana looked taken aback. “Are you certain you heard correctly?”

“Yes. I'm waiting here for Dan so we can warn Governor Nehemiah and—” She stopped, realizing what she'd just done. In spewing out her bitterness toward Malkjah, she'd confessed
to his fiancée that she'd been eavesdropping. Worse, if Chana was on Malkijah's side, she would probably warn him and the other men that their plot was no longer a secret. They would do everything they could to stop Nava from betraying them. As panic swelled, she wanted to run and disappear, but the stairs were jammed with people.

“Do you know who Malkijah's guest was?” Chana asked.

Nava shook her head. She wished she had never opened her mouth. “I need to go.”

“No, wait.” Chana stood in Nava's way, preventing her from leaving. “You must be wondering whether or not you can trust me. I understand. To be honest, I'm also having trouble deciding who I can trust. But I want to assure you that I won't take what you just told me lightly. And I won't betray your confidence while I search for the truth.”