Word Fulfilled, The (38 page)

Forty-five

Nineveh, the Privileged Quarter

Eighteenth Day of Du’ûzu, the Twelfth Hour

onah stuffed his few provisions into a bundle. Hannah was at the marketplace to procure dried fruit, meat, and flatbread for his journey. Tonight they would try to get him out through the Ninlil Gate, but where he would go from there, he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t thought about what to do when his mission was over, or how he would get back to Israel. He assumed he would return along the same route he used to the city, but he hadn’t anticipated the river travel from Aššûr. That would require advanced arrangements, and there was still the issue of his lack of familiarity with the Assyrian tongue.

Jonah was caught between the urge to leave Nineveh far behind and the desire to see what God planned to do to the city. The refuge in Hannah’s house put him out of touch with the Jewish community, so he had no way to gauge the mood of the people. Hannah’s forays were focused on a way to escape the city; indeed, this was her first trip to the marketplace since they fled the temple. There was no question in his mind, though, that the city was doomed. He couldn’t conceive of a repentant Assyrian, let alone an entire city of them. If God would destroy Nineveh was not the question. It was how He would destroy it.

A bump in the front room interrupted his thoughts. He leaned around the wall and saw Hannah burst into the house. She dropped two small bundles by the door and hurried into the back room. A smile spread over her face.

Jonah cocked his head. “Hannah—?”

She dropped to her knees and embraced him. “Jonah! You’ve succeeded!” she whispered in his ear, her voice barely able to contain her excitement.

He didn’t try to break the hug. “What? What are you talking about?”

She sat back and took his hands in hers. “Nineveh. It’s . . . we’re repenting!”

He shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“The whole marketplace is agog. Your disappearance from the temple is seen as a miracle. People believe this great vengeful god has spirited his prophet from the city in preparation for its destruction. People crowd the Jews everywhere. They ask who this god is and how to appease him.”

Jonah stared, his mouth agape.

She laughed. “Don’t you see? Your mission here for
Adonai
has been for good. If it continues at this pace, the whole city will repent well within the forty days.”

Repent? Assyria? Nineveh? Impossible!

“Jonah, what’s wrong?” Hannah’s smile faded.

“Nineveh isn’t supposed to repent. It’s supposed to be destroyed.” His tone was flat.

Hannah leaned back. “Of course, it’s supposed to repent. That was your message.”

Jonah shook his head. “But there was no chance of that. Assyria is too evil; Nineveh is too evil. It was to be obliterated.”

She set her jaw. “I am Assyrian, Jonah. My friends, what few I do have, are Ninevites.”

He returned a blank look. “You’re not an Assyrian. You’re a Jew.”

“Yes, Jonah. An Assyrian Jew. This is my home. These are my people.”

“But it wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

She frowned. “Do you mean you want the city destroyed? You want all of these people—all of us—to die?”

He jerked his head. “No! Not you, of course. Not the Jews, just the Assyrians.”

Hannah rose to her feet and folded her arms. “Jonah, you’re not listening. I am
an Assyrian. If God destroyed Nineveh, all of us would die with it. The elders, their families, my daughter, and I. Everyone. Surely that’s not what you wanted. Please tell me that’s not what you wanted.”

Jonah looked up, his mind in a whirl. “I—”

Her eyes flashed. “You do, don’t you? You came here in hopes of destroying us, not saving us.”

He scrambled to his feet. “Hannah, I—”

She stepped back, her hands raised. “You need to go. Tonight. I’ll see you to the Ninlil Gate. I don’t care where you go from there.” She turned and left the room.

“Hannah—”

Lll

Hulalitu choked. “No!”

Ahu-duri stared, his mouth agape. “You . . . you cannot do that!”

Ianna’s face was expressionless. “I will invoke the Royal Marriage. The High Priestess of Ishtar can marry the king.”

He shook his head. “The Royal Marriage is a ritual for the new year, when the High Priestess and the king come together for a night. It is not a true marriage.”

Her voice was low. “And he is not a true king, is he? He is only a substitute king. And this is only for a season, is it not? One hundred days.”

“He . . . he is a true king, for as long as he reigns,” the vizier stammered.

“Then he has the authority to accept me as his queen.” Ianna stepped forward and stood toe to toe with the flustered legate. “Doesn’t he?”

“I . . . he—” Ahu-duri threw a panicked look at Jamin.

Ianna turned and followed his gaze. She lifted her gown from around her feet and strode to Jamin, where she stopped a single pace from him. She searched his eyes. “Do you want me?”

Jamin’s words rushed out in a forced whisper. “I . . . but . . . I can’t do this to you!”

Ianna took another half-pace forward and looked into his face. Her whisper matched his. “I can no longer serve Ishtar. You are now my king. Your people are my people, and your God is my God.”

“But you know what—”

“Yes, I know.” She leaned forward. “You once professed your love for me. I now confess my love for you. I would rather live with you for a hundred days than to live without you for a hundred years.” Her face was a mere hand’s breadth from his. “I love you. Please, take me as your wife.” A tear moistened her cheek.

He swallowed, then shook his head. “I love you too much to let you do this.”

“Children, it is time. Receive each other.”

Ianna jerked her head at the voice. She looked into Jamin’s eyes and knew he heard it, too. Her eyebrows raised, and a gentle smile touched her lips.

Jamin closed his eyes.
Why? Why this way?

“
You will learn in time.”

He released a slow exhale and opened his eyes. His voice shook with countless emotions. “Yes. I take you for my wife.”

Jamin took Ianna’s hand in his, and together they turned to face the vizier.

Forty-six

Nineveh, the Privileged Quarter

Nineteenth Day of Du’ûzu, the Second Hour

onah stared into a murky darkness that matched his countenance. His mind was full and his heart heavy. Hannah had not said a word since their earlier exchange. She had only retrieved the two bundles of food, dropped them in front of him, and gone to her sleep mat. He could hear her steady breathing through the light scrim that covered her niche.

The news of the city’s repentance confused him more than addled him, but he had communicated that poorly. And he’d never seen someone change demeanor as quickly as Hannah had. Her sudden coldness dropped the ache in his heart to a knot in his stomach. There seemed to be no way to let her know what he felt, how complicated this was, how difficult just the idea of coming to Nineveh had been. None of that mattered now. The euphoria of this new relationship sank more quickly than he had after being thrown into the sea from the
Ba’al Hayam
. None of this was supposed to happen.

The words he spoke to Elihu when he ran to Joppa to avoid this very situation rushed back at him.
“If Adonai sends a message to repent, it means the people can repent.”

But in Assyria? He grit his teeth at his dilemma and his God.

“This is why I fled to Tarshish! This is why I never wanted to come to Nineveh! I knew this could happen, although I never believed it would. You offer mercy where mercy is not due. You show loving-kindness where love is not understood. Your justice makes no sense when You override it so quickly with Your grace. I didn’t want to preach to this miserable city. I didn’t need a relationship with this confusing woman. Yet You thrust both of them on me, and now I’ve ruined everything. Why didn’t You just leave me alone?”

The voice startled Jonah.

“The woman is right, Jonah ben Amittai. She is a child who forsook
Adonai
, yet she knows Him better than you do. A light is most visible where the darkness is deepest. Where mercy is not due is where it is needed the most. Where there is no love is where loving-kindness yields its greatest good. And grace will always abound where justice is most richly deserved. You have so quickly forgotten that, Jonah, even though you experienced it yourself in the belly of the fish and in attending to the wrongs you inflicted on yourself and others in your rebellion. You forget that mercy, loving-kindness, and grace were extended to you at the times you needed them most . . . the times you deserved them least. What right have you to be angry, Jonah ben Amittai?”

“But why Nineveh, of all cities? Israel is Adonai’s chosen land, not cursed Assyria! What has the God of Abraham to do with the heathens of this land?”

“Do you forget that
Adonai
called Abram out of Ur in the land of the Chaldeans, of Sumer, of Assyria? Do you forget His instructions to Mosheh when he led the people from bondage in Egypt—that he was to raise a sword neither against the Edomites, nor the Moabites, nor the Ammonites, for He had given their land to them?
Elohim Adonai
is the God of all people, not merely one. It is through Abraham’s seed that the world shall be blessed, Jonah, not Abraham’s seed alone. His dealings with the nations—yes, even Nineveh—are His alone. It is yours to carry His message, not to quarrel with it.”

Jonah rolled onto his side and covered his head with his arms. “No more. Please, no more. I haven’t the strength.”

“God’s power is perfected in your weakness, Jonah. It is why you were chosen.”

Jonah squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his arms to his ears against the voice, but the words echoed through his mind. He dropped into a stupor, then finally a slumber barely beneath consciousness, but there was no rest in it.

Lll

A nudge against his shoulder stirred him.

“It’s time.” Hannah’s soft voice floated down from somewhere above him.

Jonah squinted into the dark, but he couldn’t discern any shapes. He wondered for a moment if he’d gone blind, so total was the blackness. He groped on the floor for his bundles and staggered to his feet. In the inkiness, he caught the padding of Hannah’s footsteps. The footfalls ceased, and he heard a click as the door latch slipped from its cradle. A gentle wash of moonlight widened across the floor as the door opened. Hannah’s shape slipped into the glow and paused, framed by the low doorway. His throat tightened again at the sight of her. He wanted to say something, anything, to set things right, but his tortured mind failed his tongue.

“Quickly.” Her silhouette disappeared.

Jonah edged across the floor and through the open doorway. Hannah scanned the road in both directions, then looked back and gestured for him to follow. Instinctively, he raised his hand to take hers, but she turned and set off up the street. His heart ached with embarrassment and disappointment.

Hannah led back to the bend in the river, to the path they traversed from the temple square. She turned east, away from the plaza, and picked her way along the shadowed pathway. As they slipped along the silent waters of the Tabiltu in the dim moonlight, Jonah’s mind churned for something to say.

“Hannah, I want—”

“Quietly. We’re nearing the gate.” She tossed the whisper over her shoulder and kept moving.

Jonah plodded behind her, his eyes at the ground in front of his feet. He looked up just in time to avoid a collision when Hannah slowed her pace. The city wall loomed only twenty paces ahead, its dark edifice broken by the Ninlil Gate. She guided them off the path and stopped by a pillar embedded in the wall. Jonah closed the distance and halted behind her.

Hannah’s voice barely pierced the night. “The moon is low in the west. When we get through the gate, stay in the shadow against the wall until we spot the guards. Stay close to me.”

“I’d like—”

“But not too close.” Her flat tone cut him off.

Jonah’s embarrassment turned to irritation. Before he could reply, she stepped around the corner of the wall and through the opening. He followed. The Ninlil Gate was wide enough to accommodate the Tabiltu entering the city from the east and a main road that hugged the far side of the river. No guards were in sight. She motioned to him and stepped away from the wall.

The lip of the eastern horizon across the river lay barely visible against the predawn. The wall’s shadow stretched away from the city and covered them until they reached the riverbank. Hannah stopped.

“There’s a ford just ahead. The season has been dry, so it should be easy to cross.”

“Hannah—”

“Later. We need to—”

“Hannah!” Jonah’s sharp tone cut the stillness.

She twirled around, her dimly lit face knit into a frown.

Jonah matched her stance but dropped his voice again to a whisper. “I know I disappointed you, and I know you’re upset. So am I. But you have to believe that there is more to this than I’ve been able to explain. Much more. Please give me a chance.” A plaintive note crept into his voice. “Please . . . Hannah?” His voice caught.

Jonah took her hand. She stiffened at his touch but did not pull back. He lifted her hand to his face and pressed it to his cheek. The word came as a whisper. “Please.”

She nodded. Her voice was soft, but urgent. “All right. But it has to be later. We can still be seen this close to the city.”

“But we must talk.”

“Yes. We’ll talk.” She pulled her hand from his grasp and turned.

A few paces later the path dropped level with the river. Together they stepped into the placid water, its current barely noticeable against his bare ankles. The river rose only to their hips before they reached the far side. They topped the embankment and crossed the road, but when they reached the hillside, Hannah stopped.

“I’ll leave you here. I need to get back through the gate before dawn, or the guards will wonder what a lone woman is doing outside the city at daybreak.”

Jonah looked around. “Where do I go from here?”

“At the top of this rise, there are clearings in the scrub brush and ground cover. Watch out for snakes. You can wait until light to decide what you want to do from there.”

“But you’re coming back.” Jonah peered into her face.

She hesitated.

“Hannah, you said we would talk. I’m not leaving Nineveh until we do.” Jonah reached for her again, but she shifted her stance and avoided his touch.

“Jonah, I—”

“Hannah, I don’t know how you feel about me anymore, but I love you. I’m not letting you go and I’m not leaving without speaking with you. You promised. I’m holding you to that promise.”

Hannah tossed her head and looked away, then glanced back at Jonah. She folded her arms and stared at the ground. “I need to get home.”

“I’ll be here when you get back. Either you come, or I die here. There’s nothing else. I’m not leaving.”

Hannah eyed him, but he didn’t waver. Finally, she shrugged. “All right.”