On This Foundation

  Geshem the Arab took up the questioning next, beginning with a meandering lecture about trade routes and tariff agreements, making it clear that he enjoyed a monopoly on the spice trade. Tired as he was from the journey, Nehemiah found the speech difficult to follow. Was Geshem threatening him or asking for a bribe? Either way, Nehemiah didn’t dare react. Clearly, Geshem had no intention of relinquishing the control he held over these lucrative trade routes, especially to a newly arrived Jew.

  “Once I’ve met with my district leaders,” Nehemiah said when Geshem’s speech was finally finished, “you will be welcome to make an official state visit to discuss trade agreements. But I won’t promise that the old agreements will remain unchanged. As governor it’s my duty to make decisions that are in the best interests of my people, even if they conflict with the policies of the past.” Geshem didn’t reply, but his displeasure was evident in his simmering gaze before he angled his face to the side and lifted his keffiah to hide his expression.

  “I’m curious, Nehemiah,” Sanballat said, taking control again, “what, exactly, was your previous leadership role in Susa? What experience are you bringing to our region?”

  Nehemiah formed his answer carefully to avoid a lie. “I have personally served the Persian emperor in his royal citadel in Susa for the past decade. Mine was a position of the very highest trust. King Artaxerxes is a wise and astute leader, and he never would have appointed me as Judah’s governor if he didn’t think I had the experience or capability to lead my people.”

  Sanballat gave a mocking laugh that made his stomach jiggle. “Listen, Nehemiah, I think you’ll find life in Judah quite different from what you’re accustomed to in Susa—in the royal citadel, no less! You’ll have much to learn about how we do things out here beyond the river. But there’s no need for you to begin your term as governor in complete ignorance. My aides are very experienced and quite willing to teach you how things are done in your new little territory. Why not stay here for a few days and let them brief you?”

  It required all of Nehemiah’s willpower not to react to Sanballat’s condescending attitude or the smirk on his face. “Thank you, but there’s no need. As you’ve said, my little territory is small and insignificant. I’m sure I’ll be able to learn everything I need to know very quickly.”

  “As you wish,” he said with a shrug. “But at least stay and enjoy our hospitality for a few days. I believe you’ll find the amenities much cruder in Jerusalem than here in Samaria. And especially compared to life in Susa.”

  “Please don’t think me rude or ungrateful. I will be happy to return to Samaria and accept your offer of hospitality at a later date. But for now, you must understand that I have traveled more than a thousand miles. I am very eager to reach my destination before I rest.”

  “Another time, then?”

  “Certainly. Another time.”

  Tobiah watched Judah’s new governor walk out the door and wondered if all his hard work and political ambitions had just walked out the door with him. Without warning and appearing out of nowhere, this upstart newcomer threatened to undo all of Tobiah’s careful political maneuvering, toppling the network of business and social relationships he had nurtured in Jerusalem all these years. The muscles in Tobiah’s hands ached from bunching them into fists. His head throbbed from clenching his jaw, but he wouldn’t reveal his distress to Sanballat or anyone else. The Samaritan governor would ask what was wrong, and Tobiah didn’t want to reveal his long-held plans to annex Judah and Jerusalem to his own Ammonite province.

  Tobiah was standing in the courtyard outside Sanballat’s throne room after the meeting, waiting for his servants to finish their preparations for the journey home, when one of Sanballat’s servants approached. “The governor would like to meet with you in his private chambers.” The servant spoke softly so none of the other provincial leaders could overhear him.

  “Now?” Tobiah asked.

  “Yes, my lord. Follow me, please.”

  Tobiah wished he had more time to recover his balance after meeting Nehemiah, but refusing this request would raise too many questions. He followed the servant to Sanballat’s private quarters, where he found the Samaritan and Geshem the Arab already waiting. The room had cushioned seats and a table with flasks of water and wine and bowls of grapes and dates. But neither of the men were sitting down or eating. Tobiah had worked closely with these powerful men for several years and could see that they were as disturbed by this new Jewish leader as he was. “What did you think of Judah’s new governor?” he asked the other two.

  Sanballat twisted one of the heavy rings he wore on his fingers, exposing his unease. “I found Nehemiah a very difficult man to read. No sign of vain pride or temper, even when provoked. I think he’ll be hard to intimidate.”

  “And possibly even harder to bribe,” Geshem added. The Arab chief paced near the window, his long robe trailing across the worn carpet, his keffiah shadowing his dark face.

  “Everyone has a weak point,” Sanballat said, pulling his ring off and shoving it on again. “We simply don’t know Nehemiah’s weaknesses, yet. We’ll give him a measure of control, let him think he’s in charge—”

  “It isn’t a question of giving him control,” Tobiah said. “You saw the decree he carried. It’s from the emperor himself. Nehemiah is in control of Judah—and he knows it!”

  “I find it very disturbing that someone has come to promote the welfare of the Jews,” Geshem said. “They’re so much easier to handle when they’re leaderless and beaten down.”

  “Yes, I’m upset about that, too,” Sanballat agreed. “We’ve worked hard to keep them submissive. I don’t like the fact that they now have an advocate. And a savvy one, from all appearances.”

  “Not only is he an advocate for the Jews,” Geshem added, “he claims to have worked closely with the Persian emperor himself. I’ve been to Susa; I don’t recall ever meeting this man.”

  “Didn’t you find it odd that he was so young?” Tobiah asked. “Or that he had the bearing and build of a soldier instead of a diplomat?”

  “I want to know what he’s up to,” Sanballat said. “I think he’s dangerous.”

  “The entire situation is dangerous,” Tobiah agreed. “We’ve maintained a nice balance of power here since their last governor retired. We’ve kept the Jews in their places, living in a state of fear—and profited nicely at the same time.”

  “As governor of The Land Beyond the River,” Sanballat said, “I still hold a great deal of power. And I will not allow that to change. Nehemiah will learn to submit to my authority or suffer for it.”

  “Your authority?” Tobiah’s hold over his temper began to slip. “What about the emperor’s decree? It was sealed with his ring. Nehemiah is the governor of Judah from now on, not you.” And not Tobiah, either, or his son Jehohanan, whom he’d been grooming to rule with him. If anyone should suddenly appear on the scene as the Jewish savior and sit in the governor’s residence in Jerusalem, Tobiah thought it should be him. He had the experience, the political and religious connections.

  Sanballat sat down and lifted a cluster of grapes from the plate, popping them into his mouth one by one with a show of nonchalance. “It doesn’t matter. There’s little Nehemiah can do to change the Jews’ situation. He’ll soon learn the value of cooperating with me—and the pain of not cooperating. Nevertheless, until he does, we can’t take our eyes off him for a moment.”

  “What’s your plan for keeping an eye on his activities?” Geshem asked. The Arab leader’s furrowed brows and hawklike nose made him look fierce, combative. Tobiah knew the value of keeping him as an ally.

  “I have eyes and ears in Jerusalem,” Sanballat said. “The high priest’s grandson is married to my daughter. Rest assured that I’m monitoring all of the activities of the religious leaders.”

  “And my son Jehohanan lives in Jerusalem,” Tobiah added. “His father-in-law, a man named Meshullam, is on the ruling council. They keep me informed about eve
rything that happens in the council meetings. Believe me, some of the local leaders will be as concerned as we are that an outsider is taking charge.”

  “What’s more,” Sanballat added, pouring wine from the flask into a cup, “my hometown of Beth Horon is only a few miles north of Jerusalem along one of the main roads into the city. I have eyes and ears there, too. Come, gentlemen. Let’s sit and enjoy a toast to our continued prosperity. We’ll either win this newcomer Nehemiah to our side or make sure that everything he attempts to do ends in failure.”

  Tobiah refused the offered cup, knowing it would only seethe in his stomach. “I want to know the real reason he was appointed. Judah’s last governor, Ezra, was primarily a religious leader, and he created havoc and confusion among my people with all his bans on intermarriage.”

  “Mine, as well,” Sanballat said. “But this time the king’s decree said nothing about religious reforms.”

  “So why send a political leader? And why now?” Tobiah asked.

  “That’s the big question.” Sanballat took a sip of wine and set down the cup. “But if Nehemiah worked as closely with King Artaxerxes as he claims he did, in a position of highest trust, I can’t help wondering why he was sent to such a remote, backward territory. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Long after the private meeting ended and Tobiah returned to his home across the Jordan River, he continued to worry about Nehemiah’s true agenda. When he could no longer calm his fears, he called his two closest aides into his chambers and confided in them. “Go to Jerusalem, to my son Jehohanan, and tell him I need to know exactly why Nehemiah is here. What is he up to? Why has he come? Follow the man day and night, and don’t come back until you have answers.”

  Chapter

  9

  THE DISTRICT OF BETH HAKKEREM

  That’s my father’s house up ahead.”

  Nava looked up from the dusty road and saw her new master’s son pointing to a cluster of stately stone buildings perched on the hilltop in front of them. He hadn’t spoken a word to her on the journey, nor had he stopped or slowed the donkey’s plodding pace to allow her to rest. But Nava halted now in the middle of the road to stare at the home that would be hers for the next six years. A high stone wall encircled the house and barns. Terraced vineyards, guarded by watchtowers, covered the hillsides. Dozens of laborers harvested wheat in the field on the opposite side of the road, and Nava wondered if she would be sent to work alongside them. She saw an olive grove, vegetable gardens, orchards, and pastures, and shivered at the sight of so much land. Why did Malkijah need Abba’s farm or his wheat crop if he already owned all of this?

  Her master’s son hadn’t stopped, and Nava had to hurry to catch up with him again. She was breathless from the climb by the time they arrived at one of the entrances into the walled compound. A servant rushed forward to help the master’s son dismount, then led the donkey away. “Come on. This way,” Malkijah’s son said, gesturing impatiently. Nava followed him through a maze of structures and courtyards completely enclosed by the stone walls. There were pens for the animals, living areas for her new masters and their workers, open areas where servants performed a variety of tasks, barns filled with hay, and storehouses full of clay containers. She glimpsed a winepress and an olive press. Nava hurried to keep up as her young master led her through a large kitchen courtyard with ovens and cooking hearths and then into an outdoor dining room with a trellised roof, covered with flowering vines. Could a king’s palace be any grander than this? She gazed around in wonder and nearly ran into the son’s back when he halted suddenly. Her new master, Malkijah ben Recab, came out to stand beneath the trellis in his impeccable white robe, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Here’s your new bondservant, Father,” his son said.

  “Thank you, Aaron.” Malkijah appraised Nava as Aaron disappeared into the house behind him. Her mouth felt dry as she stood beneath his scrutiny. “Tell me your name,” he finally said.

  “Nava.”

  “You’re very young.”

  “I’m nearly seventeen, my lord.” She couldn’t help trembling and was distressed to hear that it showed in her voice.

  “I’m guessing you don’t have much experience working in a house as large and lavish as this one.”

  She stared at him, too shocked to reply. Was he shaming her because her family was poor? Because she had arrived barefooted and in rags? She wanted to shout at him, tell him how happy her home was. How there was laughter and love inside her family’s humble walls, that those things were worth millions compared to gold and other luxuries. But then he smiled, a crooked smile that twisted only half of his mouth. She was surprised to see kindness in his eyes. “You don’t need to be afraid, Nava. I’m only trying to determine the best job for you to do here. What kind of work do you enjoy?”

  She drew a deep breath and exhaled to calm herself. “I used to take care of Abba’s goats, but you own them now. I used to milk them every day and make yogurt and cheese.”

  He smiled again. “Then that’s what you’ll do here. Penina is in charge of my kitchen, and Shimon tends my goats. You will be under their authority, and you’ll need to do whatever work they require of you. Understand?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good. Go through that gate right over there, and you’ll find Penina in the kitchen courtyard. Tell her I said to show you to your quarters.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Nava crossed the courtyard on shaky legs. Her heart sped up as she neared the gate and heard a woman shouting on the other side of the wall. “You let the fire get too hot, you fool! Didn’t I warn you to be careful adding wood? Now you’ve burned the master’s bread, wasted his food! This will be your portion to eat tonight and tomorrow and the next day, burned or not!”

  Nava slipped through the gate and into an enormous kitchen courtyard, twice the size of her entire house. Servants washed and chopped vegetables at wooden tables, sorted lentils and beans. One servant ground grain into flour with a hand mill, another kneaded dough. The heat from the hearth fire and clay oven pressed against Nava from across the yard, and she smelled the burnt bread. Presiding over the bustle was the shouting woman, who must be Penina. From the volume of her voice, Nava had expected to see a much larger woman, but Penina was short and thin and birdlike. She reminded Nava of the little wheatears that nested in Abba’s fruit trees. Penina finished her tirade by giving the hapless servant boy a cuff on the ear that made him wince.

  Nava was afraid to move, afraid to speak. She closed the gate behind her and took a few steps inside, waiting for Penina to turn around and notice her. “Who are you?” Penina asked when she finally did.

  “My name is Nava. I just arrived today. My master sent me to see you.”

  “Not another one!” She clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “Sent you to do what? I hope you know how to work hard, because I don’t have time to teach you.”

  Nava could barely swallow around the lump in her throat. “Master Malkijah said I should help tend the goats. I know how to milk them and make cheese and yogurt from their milk. And he said I should help you with your work when I’m finished.” To Nava’s dismay, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She feared Penina would shout at her for weeping, but instead, the little woman’s demeanor softened as she looked Nava over, taking in her raggedy robe and bare feet.

  “First time away from home, is it?” Nava could only nod as her tears spilled down her dusty face. “If you work hard and do as you’re told, you’ll get along just fine. . . . Rachel!” She shouted at a pretty, dark-haired woman chopping onions.

  The woman laid down her knife and scurried over. “Here I am.”

  “Show Nava where to put her things. She can sleep next to you. Then take her to the goat pen to meet Shimon.” Nava started to follow Rachel. “Wait!” Penina called. “Where are your shoes?”

  “In here,” she said, holding up her bag. “The strap keeps breaking. I could fix them if I had a bit of leather.”
>
  “When the stable boy comes with the straw for your pallet, tell him what you need. All right, everyone!” she said, clapping her hands. “Stop standing around! You can gawk at our new servant after your work is done.”

  Rachel led Nava to a low, narrow stone building with a rough-beamed ceiling and dirt floor. Inside, piles of straw pallets lay neatly stacked near the walls and the floor looked newly swept. “We share this room with the other women servants,” Rachel said. She pointed to a wall of built-in shelves filled with neatly folded blankets. “Find an empty space and put your blanket in it.”

  “I didn’t bring a blanket. I didn’t know . . .”

  “Well, put your other things in it, then.”

  Nava hurried across the room and stuffed the bag she had carried from home into one of the openings, then turned back to Rachel.

  The woman smiled. “Poor little thing. You look like a scared lamb. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Penina shouts a lot, but you don’t have to be afraid of her.”

  “Have you worked here very long?”

  “About two years.”

  “I’m working to help my father pay back his debts.”

  Rachel nodded. “My husband owes money, too. Our children were too young to be bondservants—our son was three when I left and our daughter was five. So . . . here I am.”

  “Who’s taking care of them?”

  “My husband’s mother.” For a moment, tears glistened in Rachel’s eyes. Then she regained control. “It’s not so bad here,” she said with an unconvincing smile. “At least we have plenty to eat and a warm fire when the weather gets cold. Come on, I’ll show you the goat pen.”

  It was a very large enclosure with a manger of fresh hay for the animals and a trough of water. Nava spotted her own goats mixed in with all the others, and it was like seeing old friends in a crowd of strangers. “Come here . . .” she said, calling and whistling to them. “Come here and let me see you.” One goat recognized her voice and ran to the side of the fence where Nava stood. The animal’s stubbly fur tickled her cheek as she reached through the slats to hug her. “Look at you,” she murmured. “Look how fat you’ve grown! They must be feeding you very well.”