On This Foundation (29 page)

“Thank you, miss.” Nava wasn't sure she believed her. She slipped away from Chana and melted into the crowd, crouching low, weaving between people. Why had she opened her mouth? If Malkijah fired her, Abba would lose his land. Her family would starve. Reporting what she'd heard to the governor was one thing, but why had she foolishly confided in Chana? Nava raced down the stairs and through the streets. As she neared Malkijah's house, there was Dan, standing in the place where they usually parted every morning. Relief flooded through her, bringing tears to her eyes. She ran the rest of the way and into his arms. “I was so worried about you!”

“I'm sorry. I didn't make it in time for the sacrifice, so I decided to wait here for you.”

“When you weren't at the temple, I was afraid that you'd had to fight and that something had happened to you.”

“We kept watch outside the city all night last night, waiting for an attack, but it never came.”

She was relieved that Dan was unharmed but still panic-stricken about what she had just told Chana. Her words poured
out in a jumbled rush. “I have something to tell you, Dan. I overheard something shocking, but I think I just made a terrible mistake by telling Chana when I should have told the governor instead, and—”

“Whoa. Slow down. I can't make sense of a word you're saying.”

She drew a breath, forcing herself to speak calmly. “Last night I overheard my master talking at dinner—”

“Nava! . . . Nava!” Someone behind her was shouting her name. She freed herself from Dan's arms and turned, terrified that it was Chana. Instead, Malkijah's housekeeper marched up the street with a broom in her hand and a look of fury on her face. “So! This is what you've been up to, is it? Someone told me that you weren't really going to the temple every morning. They said you've been meeting a boyfriend, but I didn't want to believe it.”

“But I do go to the temple—”

“So I decided to see with my own eyes—and here you are! Cozying up to him!” The housekeeper had seen Nava nestled in Dan's arms for comfort.

“You don't understand. Dan and I are going to be married—”

“Oh, I understand. You aren't religious at all . . . you're a loose woman!”

“Now, wait just a minute—” Dan said, but the housekeeper cut him off.

“No, you listen to me, young man! Nava belongs to our master. He could have you severely punished for interfering with one of his workers.”

“Interfering . . . ?”

“You know what I mean! And if Nava has your child while she's still a bondservant, that child will belong to her master, not you!”

“What?” Dan looked stunned, as if the housekeeper had struck him in the head with her broom.

“There is no child,” Nava protested. “We haven't—”

“Enough of your lies!” She gripped Nava's arm and dragged her toward the house.

“Let go of her,” Dan shouted.

The housekeeper shook her broom at him like a weapon. “You stay away from her!” By the time they reached Malkijah's door, Nava's arm felt bruised from being yanked against her will. “It's my job to protect your virtue, Nava. That's why I'm sending you back to Beth Hakkerem.”

“No! Please! I promise I won't see Dan anymore. I won't even leave the house. But please, please don't send me back there!”

“My mind's made up, so you can stop your blubbering. You betrayed my trust when you told me you were going to the sacrifices. You won't get a second chance from me.”

Nava caught a final glimpse of Dan, still standing in the street, before the housekeeper pulled her through the door and slammed it behind them.

O
UTSIDE
J
ERUSALEM

F
or a second night, Nehemiah and his men slipped through the Valley Gate and into the darkness to keep watch for an enemy attack. Last night the only thing his small band of volunteers had spotted were jackals hunting rodents and grasshoppers among the weed-filled ruins. He and his men had returned to the city as the sun began to lighten the eastern sky, exhausted from their long, worthless vigil. “Get some sleep,” Nehemiah had told them. “We'll have to do this all over again tonight.” But Nehemiah had dozed for only a short time, compelled by worry and nervous energy. He made the rounds of the city wall, making sure his workers were well guarded and that construction was progressing.

The fact that this crisis had slowed their work frustrated him. Only half of his men now rebuilt the wall, wearing swords at their sides while they labored. The other half stood guard, equipped with spears, wooden shields, bows, and armored breastplates. Those who carried materials did their work with one hand and held a weapon in the other, while his officers were posted in strategic places to respond quickly in case of an attack. Everyone worked from the first light of dawn until the
stars came out at night. That's when Nehemiah and his men left the safety of the half-finished walls to watch the roadways for the approaching enemy.

Now, as they prepared for a possible assault on the second night, Nehemiah repeated his speech to the dozen men who had volunteered to watch with him. “If an attack does come, we'll very likely be outnumbered. Don't be afraid of them. Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons and daughters, your wives and homes.”

They took posts among the ruins of the Mishneh, positioning themselves behind deserted houses that offered a view of the main road leading to the Valley Gate. His men seemed tense and alert, wary of every little sound and movement. The sprawling area teemed with insects and was overgrown with weeds and briars. Dry grass prickled Nehemiah's skin as he crouched behind the ruins of a burned-out house. The only light on this moonless night came from millions of stars filling the cloudless summer sky.

After watching for more than an hour, Nehemiah heard a rustling noise behind him and whirled around. One of his volunteers, a lanky young man with sun-browned skin, came to crouch beside him armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows. He looked vaguely familiar to Nehemiah, and he tried to recall where he had seen him before tonight. “What's your name?” he whispered, still wary of whom to trust.

“Dan ben Yonah.”

“You look very young to be a volunteer.”

“I'm old enough. I know how to use a bow, and I'm not afraid to fight.”

Nehemiah didn't respond, listening for sounds in the darkness—an owl hooting, the grinding of crickets, the quiet rustle of his men shifting positions.

“My family returned with Rebbe Ezra thirteen years ago,” Dan whispered, “to the patch of land in the District of Beth
Hakkerem that belonged to our ancestors. But we were forced to mortgage it to a wealthy landowner named Malkijah ben Recab because of the drought.”

Nehemiah suddenly remembered where he'd seen the young man before. “You came forward with the other men to protest at the temple, didn't you?”

“Yes, Governor. And we are very grateful for what you tried to do for us. But Malkijah didn't do what you asked him to. He didn't cancel our debts or give back any of our land. And he refuses to free his bondservants.”

Before Nehemiah could reply, one of his other men whispered, “Over there!” Nehemiah looked where he pointed and saw movement, a darker shape against the shadows. His heart sped up. His men nudged each other into alertness, and they gazed into the darkness. Dan quietly pulled an arrow from his quiver and fitted it into his bow. As the shapes emerged from the ruins and scampered across the road to disappear again, Nehemiah saw that it was the same pack of jackals they'd seen last night, returning to rummage among the deserted houses.

He sat back again, his heart rate returning to normal. The young man still crouched beside him, waiting for his reply. If what Dan said was true and Malkijah hadn't helped the poor, then Nehemiah was very disappointed in him. He considered Malkijah an ally and supporter, relying on him to rebuild the Dung Gate. He'd already served as a valuable informant, exposing a potential enemy spy when he'd warned about Tobiah's son. Nehemiah had made Malkijah a commander, entrusting him with troops and weapons, putting him in charge of defending the southern approach to the city. In fact, his brother Ephraim had volunteered to fight alongside Malkijah because the gate was near his home at the southern tip of the city. A chill of dread shivered through Nehemiah when he remembered they were positioned there for a possible attack at this very moment.

Knowing whom to trust was an issue that continued to
plague Nehemiah. But at least Dan's accusation against Malkijah would be easy to verify. “I'll look into what you've told me,” Nehemiah promised. He left Dan and silently moved away, climbing the remains of an outdoor staircase that led to the rooftop of one of the ruined houses. He wanted to be alone as doubt gnawed at him. The deep divide between rich and poor had begun to heal, but the wound might rupture all over again, halting the wall's progress if men like Malkijah refused to support Nehemiah's reforms.

His new lookout perch offered a clear view of the rubble-littered street and a large section of the deserted Mishneh. He crouched behind the remains of the parapet to wait. If the attack didn't come tonight, Nehemiah feared that his men would grow complacent and bored, letting down their guard instead of remaining alert and motivated. Or worse, that fear would creep in as stealthily as the jackals had, heightening the unnerving sense of being watched and preyed upon.

Midway through the night, Nehemiah spotted them. Not jackals this time but his enemies, advancing through the ruins like the flickering shadows of an oil lamp. He rubbed his eyes to make sure they weren't playing tricks on him. They weren't. More than two dozen figures, weapons drawn, crept along the margins of the road toward the Yeshana Gate. Nehemiah's men were outnumbered by more than two to one. Even so, he rose to his feet and whistled the signal to fight. His men let out a savage war whoop as he'd instructed them to do, so loud and bone-chilling that the enemy halted in their tracks. Nehemiah's archers, including Dan, unleashed a flurry of arrows as Nehemiah clambered down the stairs and ran forward with the rest of his men to stop the attackers. With his heart hammering harder than he could ever recall, he unleashed the protective fury that he'd long felt for his brothers in order to protect Jerusalem. It rendered him fearless.

It took only moments for the enemy to realize that they'd
lost the element of surprise. They scattered in a dozen different directions, zigzagging through the rubble, disappearing into the Mishneh's maze of winding, deserted streets. Nehemiah focused on one man and gave chase, sprinting to catch up. Now the moonless night worked against him, making it hard to follow his opponent and watch his footing at the same time. He saw Dan and the others also chasing the attackers, and he hoped they didn't attack one another by mistake.

After a few minutes of heart-pounding pursuit, Nehemiah gave up, furious that he hadn't caught up with his enemy, that he hadn't had a chance to fight him hand to hand. As his men slowly regrouped and gathered around him, he saw disappointment on their faces, as well. He beckoned to his swiftest runner. “Get a message out to all the other watch points throughout the city. Alert them of the aborted attack and warn them to remain vigilant.” Then Nehemiah and his men returned to the shadows to hide once again and keep watch.

“Think they'll try again?” Dan asked.

“Possibly. But the element of surprise is gone. They know we're waiting for them.”

“How many more nights do you think we'll have to do this?” another volunteer asked.

“Sanballat's spies may not have alerted him before now that we would be waiting, but he'll know after tonight. We'll do this every night, if we have to, until the threat eases. I'm not letting down my guard until the wall is finished and every gate is in place. But I have a feeling that once our enemies know we're aware of their plot and that the Almighty One has frustrated it, we can all return to the wall, each to his own work.”

“They won't attack from the same direction the next time, will they?” someone asked.

“Probably not, but we'll keep guard over all of the western gates just to be sure.”

As dawn finally lit up the Mishneh and the laborers and
guards returned to their work on the wall, Nehemiah gave his men permission to go home and get some rest. He had just reached his field office inside the Valley Gate when one of his messengers found him. “I have a report to deliver to you, my lord. In the last few hours before dawn, the enemy attacked your men outside the Dung Gate and—”

Nehemiah didn't wait to hear the rest. That's where his stubborn brother was fighting. Nehemiah sprinted down the hill to the gate, arriving in time to see his commander Malkijah and his brother Ephraim emerging with the other men through the gaping hole where the gate would be, looking weary yet jubilant. The relief Nehemiah felt was overwhelming. His brother appeared dusty but unharmed, with smudges of dirt on his clothes and bits of leaves sticking to his hair.

“The enemy crept up the Hinnom Valley,” Malkijah told him, “taking cover along the base of the cliffs. But our scouts stayed alert and spotted them.”

“Was there a battle?”

Malkijah nodded. “A brief one.” Nehemiah noticed dark smears on Malkijah's tunic, a gory bandage wrapped around his left hand. “We bloodied a few of their men before they retreated, but we were outnumbered so we followed your advice and didn't pursue them. They were all Samaritans from the looks of them.”

“You're injured,” Nehemiah said.

“It's nothing, Governor. I'll be fine.” Malkijah looked pleased with himself and his men. Ephraim also looked elated at having done battle.

“Our job is to guard the city, not get ourselves killed,” Nehemiah said. “This may not be over yet, so go home and get some rest. All of you.” He met Ephraim's gaze but didn't single him out, knowing his brother would resist being told what to do.

“My wound is minor,” Malkijah protested, “and my work on the gate—”

“I insist you go home and have your hand looked after. You're a valuable member of my staff.”

It wasn't until later that day that he remembered Dan's accusation against Malkijah. Nehemiah should have confronted him and asked if it was true, but lack of sleep and the long, tense night had dulled his thinking. He would wait for another time when they could talk in private. After all, hadn't Malkijah proven his courage and allegiance in battle last night?