The Journey Begun (3 page)

One

he donkey cart labored up the road, cutting through swirling gusts of wind that slapped the travelers’ rough collars against their necks and assaulted their faces with debris gathered on its flight through the valley. The bundled goatskins flapping in the wagon added their rhythm to the creaking wheels and the donkey’s steady clop-clop, creating a tympanic symphony that first dulled and then mesmerized their road-weary heads. Only the coarse cloth and dusty grit against their skin prevented the two travelers from lapsing into a stupor as they neared the end of a long day’s journey.

Their day began with an early start from Gath-hepher on a circuit through the Jezreel Valley that would take them to Megiddo, Taanach, and Jezreel. Elias, eldest son of Jonah’s brother, Ehud, offered to escort his uncle to help with the heavy lifting, but also to escape the tiny hamlet and taste the city again. He’d considered bringing his wife, Miriam, along, but her hands were full with their twin sons and the cart was only so big. Still, it was a welcomed break and he hoped to persuade his uncle to tarry in Megiddo for a day or two, although he wasn’t sure how amenable Jonah would be to the idea. He glanced over at his traveling companion.

Jonah had confided in Elias that he didn’t care for the timing of this delivery. Kidding season was upon them and early spring brought unpredictable weather that could turn a routine trip into an ordeal. But he added that
he
[B1]
 
had little choice, as he was the senior partner in the family business and there were schedules to keep. That was when Elias offered to ride along. The family’s annual Passover pilgrimage to Jerusalem was a little over two weeks away, and he knew Jonah needed to complete this delivery—plus one more to Acco—before the family left for Judah. For now, though, Megiddo was the first order of business. He glanced up at the city’s ancient walls as their donkey, Sheba, plodded up the incline.

The cart rounded the hill just below the main gate complex, bringing into view a lone figure huddled on a stone bench against the wall.

“Moshe!” Jonah called, lifting his hand in greeting.

“I don’t think he hears you.” Elias squinted against the wind and the glare of the afternoon sky.

Jonah halted the wagon abreast of the bench.
“Shalom,
Moshe! How are you, my friend?”

Moshe cocked his head and cracked a less toothy smile than the last time Jonah had seen him.

“
Shalom
, Jonah ben Amittai. All’s well, it’s well, eh?” Moshe straightened his back, propping himself on a stiff left arm. His other arm hung limp, useless now from an injury suffered in battle long ago.

“Will you join us at the inn? Catch up on some gossip, maybe?”

“Sure, heh-heh. I’ll eat yer food.” Moshe nodded and hacked a shallow cough.

Jonah smiled. “And you’re welcome to it. Give us until sunset to finish business and get settled. See you then.”

Moshe dipped his head and lifted his good arm to a half-wave before hunching back over. Jonah urged Sheba on through the portal of the city.

“How do you know him, Uncle?” Elias studied the receding figure as the cart rolled through the city gate.

Jonah smiled. “Moshe is an old army comrade of Eli’s. You remember my friend, Elihu, eh?”

“Yes, of course. He’s King Jeroboam’s senior commander, isn’t he?” Elias shook the dust from his cloak and lowered his collar as they rode into the protection of the city walls.

“That’s right. That dead shoulder is the price he paid to redeem Eli’s life from an Aramean sword.”

Elias glanced back again, but the old soldier was now lost from view behind the gate.

“He’s a cripple?”

Jonah chuckled. “You know, even in his shape, I’d hate to tangle with him. I’ve seen a warrior’s skill and experience overcome age before, believe me.”

Elias nodded. “He looked lonely. Does he have any family?”

“A married sister. He lives with her most of the time, I think.”

 
“He never married?”

Jonah paused. “He once spoke of a daughter, but I never heard him mention a wife. Eli does enjoy telling of a woman in Moshe’s past, though. I’ve seen him tease the old fellow.” A smile tickled his lips. “He never said who she was or where Moshe met her. I guess it didn’t work out, though, I’m not sure why.”

The two fell silent as Jonah guided Sheba through the city’s expansive marketplace to the far side of the square. The young tanner jumped down and stretched as his uncle reined Sheba in at the inn’s stable. Jonah clambered down beside his nephew. He grunted and arched his stiff back. “Settle Sheba in and stow the cart. Then see Hosea about putting us up for the night. I’ll find Elimelech and finish up business.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take the cart? How far do you have to go?” Elias steadied the donkey as Jonah retrieved his staff from among the goatskins.

“No. It’s not far and the walk will feel good. My backside won’t take much more of that hard seat anyway.” Jonah gave his nephew two discs of silver from his pouch and turned to go.

Elias perked up. “How many nights? Maybe we can—”

“Just one.”

The young man frowned. “I thought maybe—”

“Just one.”

Elias sighed.

Lll

Early that evening, Jonah and Elias propped their staffs against the wall near the fireplace and relaxed at a small table. Hosea, the innkeeper, arranged the table with a loaf of fresh bread, a dish of honey syrup, bowls of dried figs and dates, and a slab of hard cheese.

“There’s some lamb ready to come off the spit. I’ll bring some wine.”

Jonah
smiled
[B2]
 
. “Thank you. There will be another man joining us.”

Hosea nodded and moved off to clear a table. He glanced up and stiffened as Moshe appeared in the doorway. The old soldier gave no notice and stumped over to join his friends.

The old veteran plopped into a chair and pulled his collar loose in the heat of the room. He reached across the table for a fig.

“So, ya just passin’ through, or stayin’ awhile?” He popped the fruit in his mouth and tongued it around in his cheek before spitting the stem onto the floor.

Elias perked up at the opportunity. “Hope to stay—”

“Just passing through.” Jonah glanced at Elias, whose cheeks reddened. “Busy time of year with the herds. We can’t count on the weather to keep our schedule, so we need to move when we can.”

Moshe nodded, picking at a seed between his teeth with a stubby fingernail.

“What do you hear from Eli? Anything?” Jonah asked. He tore a chunk of bread from the warm loaf and dipped it into the honey.

“He was through here just last month. Jeroboam was takin’ a force north. Hazor, seems ta me. Don’t remember fer sure.” He straightened when a serving boy appeared with a large carafe of wine and a steaming plate of roasted lamb. The aroma melted Elias’ inhibitions, and he eagerly stabbed several strips of meat onto his plate.

Jonah sat back and reflected on Israel’s resurgence to power in
ha eretz
¸ the Promised Land. Six years ago he and Elihu had delivered
Adonai’s
message of restoration to the king in Samaria. After Jonah revealed God’s intent, Israel embarked on a campaign of renewal the people had not seen for over two hundred years. Spurred on by the divine blessing, Jeroboam’s armies reclaimed territory conquered by Philistia, Egypt, Assyria and Aram. The confident king pushed his army beyond Israel’s original borders to the Aramean capital, Damascus, and planned to push even further north to Lebo-hamath.

Assyria, preoccupied with problems at home, sat impotent to intervene, which suited Jonah fine. At a young age, he had witnessed Assyrian ferocity and callousness in battle against King Jehu’s forces in the Jezreel Valley not far from where the three men now sat. His life had changed forever in those few short hours, although he himself took no armed part in the conflict. He reckoned if another accursed scarlet-clad warrior never set foot outside Mesopotamia, it would be too soon. As Assyrian influence over Canaan waned, the people prayed for relief from the oppression. King Hazael of Aram, though, lost no time in filling the void. He coveted the strategic land bridge connecting Egypt with Mesopotamia and the Orient to the east, and with the sea people to the west. Hazael was determined to seal his Damascene dynasty and had no intention of allowing the upstart Israelites any influence over the lucrative trade routes.

But
Adonai
heard the groaning of His people and it was not long before Aram, too, lost its grip on the Levant. The pressure bending Israel’s backs eased and Jeroboam, emboldened by Jonah’s prophecy, took full advantage of the respite. Elihu ben Barak—the renowned Israelite warrior and Jonah’s lifelong friend—now rode at the king’s side as senior commander. The thought of Elihu returned Jonah’s attention to Moshe.

“How was Eli?” Jonah raised his eyes over the rim of his cup.

A wistful look clouded the old warrior’s face. “He’s good. Seems ta be enjoyin’ himself. He’s the commander, ya know.” He slurped a draught from his cup.

“Did you ever answer the call to arms?” Jonah instantly regretted his question.

Moshe fixed his stare on his wine cup, his voice subdued. “Tried once. Still had some use o’ the arm then, but not enough. They sent me home.”

Silence stalled the conversation. The only sound breaking the stillness was Elias’ ravenous chewing.

Moshe wiped at a dab of grease glistening at the corner of his mouth. “They were right ta let me go. A battle line’s only as strong as its weakest warrior.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I’d never want ta be that warrior.”

Jonah fidgeted in his chair and lowered his eyes to his plate, his fingers toying absently with a crust of bread. A sharp cough drew him back to Moshe’s face.

“No matter.” The gravel was back in his voice. Moshe drained his cup in a gulp and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Israel’s comin’ back. That’s what counts.”

The rest of dinner passed amid small talk over the weather, politics, and what little gossip Moshe had gleaned from the trickle of travelers to the city. Jonah took greater care with the topics he broached and Elias mostly listened. Finally, the plates were empty, and when the wine cups had been refilled and emptied again, Moshe pushed back from the table and hoisted himself to his feet. As Elias handed him his staff from against the wall, the veteran paused, focusing first on Elias.

“A man’s still a man, ya know, as long as he knows what it means ta be one. When he forgets what he’s about, when there’s nothin’ bigger in his world than himself, it’s time ta go. Too many stay past that point.” Moshe’s grip tightened on his staff, his wrinkled eyes narrowing to watery slits as they flitted over to meet Jonah’s. He hacked loose a raspy rattle deep in his chest. “When I forget Israel and the men I fought beside defendin’ her, it’ll be my time. ‘Till then, there’s still somethin’ for me ta do. Don’t know what it is. Figure I’ll know when I see it.”