On This Foundation

  “Hey! Get away from those goats!”

  The man who hobbled over, shaking his shepherd’s crook at Nava, was white-haired and crippled with age. She remembered that his name was Shimon and quickly explained who she was.

  “My new master said I should help you take care of them,” she finished. “This one and some of the others used to be mine.”

  “Well . . . I suppose I could use some help.” His voice resembled a growl. “Just remember that I’m in charge of them, not you. Don’t do anything without asking.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “They’ve already been milked this morning. And fed. The boy delivered the milk to Penina.”

  “Should I come back later when it’s time to milk them again?”

  “You do that.” He shuffled away.

  “Shimon seems very old for a bondservant,” Nava whispered to Rachel as they walked back to the kitchen area.

  “Didn’t you see the ring in his ear? That means he’s here for life. Some masters kick out their elderly servants when they’re too old to work. But our master finds ways for them to still be useful. He would never turn Shimon away and let him starve.”

  Nava followed Rachel through the gate and back into the kitchen courtyard, where the work continued nonstop. Rachel returned to her chopping board and Nava was about to ask Penina if she should make cheese with the goats’ milk when the little woman turned to her and asked, “Can you sew?” Nava nodded. “That cloth sack over there is for your pallet. A stable boy is coming with some straw to stuff it. I’ll give you another job when you’re finished with it.”

  Mercifully, Nava’s first day passed swiftly. Between sewing her pallet, making cheese, and milking dozens of goats with Shimon, she didn’t have time to think about her family or Dan until she lay down on her new pallet that night. That’s when the aching loneliness clutched her chest, shaking her like a helpless animal in the teeth of a predator. She rolled over to face Rachel on the pallet beside hers and saw in the moonlight streaming through the open window that she was still awake. “Rachel? Do we ever get a day off to go home and visit our families?” she whispered.

  “Master always gives us the Sabbath day off. Penina has kitchen workers like me prepare twice as much food on the eve of Shabbat so there will be enough to eat. You’ll probably still have to tend Master’s flock in the morning, but the rest of the day will be yours.”

  “I’ll be able to go home?”

  “No . . . no, that’s not possible.” Rachel’s sigh seemed to fill the room and settle over Nava like fog. “Most of us live more than a Sabbath day’s walk away. Besides, our master says the roads are much too dangerous to travel alone.”

  “You mean . . . you haven’t seen your husband or children in two years? Don’t you miss them?”

  Rachel’s eyes glistened with tears in the moonlight. “More than I can say. But maybe it’s better for my little ones if they forget me. They cried so hard when I had to say good-bye. And they’re too young to understand why I would have to keep leaving them again and again.”

  Nava thought she might die if she couldn’t see the people she loved for six years. She felt a cry of grief rising in her chest, and she rolled over onto her stomach to muffle it, burying her face in her new pallet. The stiff straw, poking through the rough cloth, scratched her skin like tiny claws.

  Chapter

  10

  JERUSALEM

  JULY

  Three days after leaving Sanballat’s palace in Samaria, Nehemiah stood overlooking his destination for the first time. Jerusalem, city of his ancestors, lay below him. His breath caught at the wonder of it—and also at the desolation of it. Piles of rubble and burnt stones lay scattered everywhere. The entire western hill looked like a ghost town with vacant buildings and barren, windswept streets. The temple on the hill above the city was a huge disappointment. Plain and unadorned, it had none of the splendor and magnificence of the pagan temples he’d seen in Susa.

  Below it, the tiny portion of the city that had been rebuilt lay vulnerable and unprotected, the clay roofs baking beneath the summer sky. A few ragged remnants of the city wall stood intact, but they were insignificant beside the toppled portions and gaping breaches where gates had once stood. The sight reminded him of an old man’s mouth with too many missing and decaying teeth. What was he doing here? What could one man possibly hope to accomplish?

  As Nehemiah continued to stare at the depressing sight, the captain of the Persian guards came to stand beside him. “The sun will set soon, my lord. We should prepare our camp.”

  “Of course, of course,” Nehemiah said, struggling to recover. He pointed to the valley that lay west of the inhabited section. “We’ll camp down there in that central valley. I understand there’s a reservoir or a spring of some sort on the southwestern side of the city.”

  “Very well.” The captain started to leave, then turned back when Nehemiah didn’t move. “Aren’t you coming, my lord?”

  He shook his head. “My brothers live here in the city. I want to see them first.”

  “My men and I will accompany you there.” The Persian was about to signal to the others when Nehemiah stopped him.

  “There’s no need. Set up camp without me.”

  “I cannot do that, my lord. You are the king’s appointed governor, and it’s my duty to protect you at all times.”

  Nehemiah understood the captain’s concern. Hadn’t it been his job to protect King Artaxerxes at all times? “You were duty-bound to protect me only as far as Jerusalem. And you’ve done that. Splendidly. You and your men are now free to return to Susa after you’ve rested and replenished your supplies.”

  “Where are the local soldiers who will take over our duties?”

  Nehemiah faced the stark truth for the first time, and his stomach turned at the memory of his parents’ helplessness. “There aren’t any.”

  The captain rested his hand on the hilt of his sword as if preparing to draw it. “At the meeting in Samaria, each regional leader had his own militia. Where is yours? Who will now be responsible for your safety?”

  Nehemiah started to say “No one,” then changed his mind. “My safety is in the Almighty One’s hands from now on.”

  “That seems foolhardy, my lord . . . if I may say so.” The captain met Nehemiah’s gaze for a long moment. This wasn’t the first time they had locked horns. Accustomed to swift travel, the Persian captain neither understood nor agreed with Nehemiah’s decision to rest for a full day every Sabbath. Nehemiah had stood his ground—the first test of his leadership—knowing that if he remained faithful to the Almighty One and His laws by keeping the Sabbath day holy, God would help him accomplish his goal of rebuilding Jerusalem’s walls. A goal that seemed nearly impossible now as he gazed at the city in the fading daylight.

  “Perhaps I am being foolhardy, Captain. But as you’ve just pointed out, I am the governor of this province, and so the decision is mine to make. You and your men will set up camp without me, and I’ll join you later. I don’t want to upset the citizens of Jerusalem by marching into town with a troop of Persian soldiers.” Nehemiah placed his horse’s reins in the captain’s hand and strode off toward the city without looking back, following the dusty road toward one of the gaping holes where a gate once stood. He didn’t get far before discovering that he and his caravan of soldiers had already attracted attention. A small delegation of men stood in the gateway, waiting for him.

  “Have you come in peace?” their leader asked. The man kneaded his pudgy hands, as if squeezing water from them.

  “Yes. Yes, of course I come in peace.” Nehemiah spread his hands to show that he was unarmed. “My name is Nehemiah ben Hacaliah, and I’m a son of Abraham, like you. I’m looking for my brothers, Ephraim and Hananiah. Can you tell me where they live?” He decided not to reveal his role as their new governor yet, hoping for one undisturbed night with his family before making the announcement.

  “Of course. I know the two sons of Hac
aliah very well,” the leader said. “Welcome to our city. I’m Shallum ben Hallohesh, ruler of the half-district of Jerusalem.” He attempted a welcoming grin, but it looked unconvincing. As soon as it faded, the worry lines fell back into place on his face. “And the soldiers, my lord? They’ve come in peace, as well?”

  “They’re merely an escort. Don’t worry, they’ll be returning to Susa very soon. Now, if you could direct me . . . ?” He smiled at the knot of men and added, “I was hoping to surprise my brothers. They don’t know I’m coming.”

  “I’ll take you,” one of the younger men offered. “My name is Jehohanan ben Tobiah. Follow me.” They left the others with their unasked questions and entered the city. Nehemiah glanced over his shoulder as they started down the sloping streets of the city of David and saw the men still huddled together, watching him. “Some of us were hoping the soldiers would stay,” the young man told Nehemiah as they walked. “Our city has become very unsafe. In fact, our entire district of Judah is unsafe. Your Persian soldiers could help stop the violence.”

  “I’m sorry, but they aren’t mine to command. Nor are they authorized to remain here.”

  “That’s too bad.” The man didn’t speak again, and a few minutes later they halted near the bottom of the hill in the lower part of the city. Nehemiah’s guide gestured to a modest stone house. “This is it.”

  “Thank you very much.” He waited until the man turned around and begin trudging back up the hill. By now the sun had set behind the western hills, but the sky remained bright with warm summer light. Nehemiah peered over the gate into his brother’s courtyard and saw Hanani and his family seated outside on cushions around a low table. They were about to eat, and Hanani gently hushed his two children, who were talking at the same time, competing for his attention. Nehemiah was reluctant to disturb the cozy scene as he watched his brother recite the blessing over the bread, reminded of his own childhood with his two brothers. Before Nehemiah had a chance to interrupt, Hanani looked up and saw him. He bolted to his feet, startling his family and nearly toppling the table.

  “Am I seeing things? Nehemiah?” He rushed to the gate, yanking it open with clumsy hands, and pulled Nehemiah into a bear hug. “I can’t believe it! Is it really you?”

  “Yes, of course it’s me!” he said, laughing.

  “But . . . how? What in the world are you doing here?”

  “I missed you after you left. I decided to pay you a visit.”

  “You’re a crazy man! Wait until Ephraim sees you! He won’t believe it!” Hanani ran to the low wall that separated his courtyard from the next one shouting, “Ephraim, get over here! Come see who’s here! You won’t believe your eyes!”

  A moment later, Nehemiah’s middle brother appeared at the gate to his house next door. “What’s all this shouting? We’re trying to eat our dinner in peace and—” He froze when he saw Nehemiah. “I must be dreaming!” He stared in astonishment for a long moment before racing forward to hug him as Hanani had done. He made no effort to hold back his tears as Nehemiah crushed him in an embrace, lifting him off the ground. “This is a miracle! A miracle!” Ephraim breathed. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

  “I know. Me too. Let me look at you, Ephraim.” He held him at arm’s length for a moment. “You’ve barely changed since I saw you last.”

  “Neither have you.” Ephraim beckoned to his wife who stood near the gate. A small boy clung to her leg, staring at them wide-eyed. “Come meet my brother Nehemiah—he’s your uncle—all the way from Susa, the capital of Persia! This is my wife and son.” Hanani’s wife and children were also on their feet waiting to be introduced.

  “I can tell you’re all brothers,” Ephraim’s wife said. “You resemble each other.”

  “Except that Nehemiah’s built like a stone wall and we’re . . . well, we’re just a pair of lazy scribes,” Ephraim said, laughing.

  “Have you eaten?” Hanani’s wife asked. “Come sit down and join us. We’ve just begun.”

  He let himself be escorted into the courtyard and was given something to drink while the two women bustled around preparing a place for him to sit and combining their two meals into one.

  “What are you doing here?” Hanani asked again. “I’m thrilled to see you, but how in the world did you get here? And what about your career in the palace?”

  “God’s hand was upon me, Hanani, and He answered our prayers. He made a way for me to speak my request to King Artaxerxes—”

  “And you still have your head?”

  “Yes,” he said, laughing. “He let me keep my head. I told him how the city of our ancestors lay in ruins with their tombs disgraced, and he granted me a leave of absence to come here.”

  “Praise God!” Hanani murmured.

  “I don’t understand. Our ancestors’ tombs . . . ?” Ephraim asked. “Do we even know where they are? And what do you intend to do with these tombs once you find them?”

  Nehemiah couldn’t help grinning. “Well . . . that’s not the only thing I came here to do. The emperor appointed me Governor of Judah.”

  “What! That’s unbelievable!”

  “You’re joking, right?” Ephraim added.

  “I’m not joking. I’ve already met with our neighboring provincial leaders in Samaria, including Governor Sanballat, and showed them my official commission as Judah’s governor, sealed by the emperor himself.”

  “Did you hear that, Ephraim? Our big brother is the new governor!”

  “Very impressive! Maybe we should get him a throne to sit on instead of an ordinary cushion.” The three of them laughed, and for a moment it was as if they were boys again, before the tragedy that had changed their lives had ever happened. By now the women had the table ready and everyone sat down. Nehemiah’s mouth watered in anticipation as they passed around the food and filled their plates.

  “How did you get here?” Ephraim asked. “How long did it take? You didn’t travel all this way by yourself, did you?”

  “The emperor assigned a detachment of Persian soldiers to escort me and—”

  “Soldiers! Are you joking?”

  Nehemiah shook his head as he scooped up a mouthful of lentils with his bread. “We had a good trip with no problems along the way, so it only took us two months. We traveled much faster than you did thirteen years ago because we weren’t transporting women and children and household goods.”

  “Or several tons of gold and silver,” Hanani added. “Remember that, Ephraim?” He nodded, his mouth full of food.

  “But I noticed,” Nehemiah continued, “that the farther we traveled from the Persian capital, the poorer everything looked. And once we reached The Land Beyond the River . . . well, it was like entering a different world.”

  “We haven’t had a decent rain in two years,” Ephraim said.

  “I believe it. The dust swirled around us in huge clouds with every step we took. The fields and trees were blanketed with it. And I saw evidence of the crippling taxes Hanani told me about.” He didn’t want to think about it, but as Judah’s governor, it would be his responsibility to deal with these issues, to help his people survive the drought and recover financially. He swallowed another bite of the spicy lentils. “Mmm, this is delicious. It’s the first real meal I’ve eaten in two months.”

  “Have some more,” Hanani’s wife said, passing the bowl.

  They talked and laughed as Nehemiah devoured the food, and it was as if he’d never been separated from his brothers. Each had married a sweet, pretty wife—both of them excellent cooks—and he found he envied his brothers’ happy, domesticated lives. He watched Hanani caress his son, who had crawled onto his lap after dinner, and he thought of their father, a bear of a man, who had been as gentle as a lamb with Nehemiah and his brothers. But as night fell and the first lamps were lit, Nehemiah grew restless, every little sound in the distant darkness putting him on edge. Nothing stood between his brothers’ homes and the murky valley and rubble-strewn hills beyond. A determined thief o
r murderer could creep up on them in the shadows and enter their homes with no trouble at all.

  Hanani saw him gazing out at the hills to the west after they’d eaten. “So what do you think of Jerusalem?” he asked.

  “To tell you the truth, I had to look away after my first glimpse of it. With so much rubble spread across that western hill it was hard to tell if the city was being rebuilt or torn down.”

  “Hanani and I were disappointed, too, when we first arrived here with Rebbe Ezra. I guess we’re used to it now and don’t even notice the desolation anymore.”

  “That’s the Mishneh out there,” Hanani said, pointing. “The city’s ‘second quarter.’ They say it was originally built during King Hezekiah’s time when the Assyrians attacked the northern tribes. Jerusalem tripled in size back then because of all the refugees.”

  “No one lives there now,” Hanani said. “There aren’t enough of us to populate it. Jerusalem is a city of homes and buildings in the middle of ruins. The new construction hasn’t caught up with all the destruction yet.”

  “Besides, it’s too dangerous to live out there,” Ephraim added. “It’s become a hideout for vagrants and thieves. Make sure you don’t travel alone after dark without your escort of soldiers.”

  “My escort won’t be staying very long. They’re returning to Susa without me after they’ve rested and gathered supplies.” He saw his brothers exchange glances and remembered how his young guide had also wished that the soldiers would stay. He pictured the huge gaps he’d seen in Jerusalem’s walls, and for the second time that evening, he battled a rising tide of hopelessness. Nehemiah trusted his brothers, but he decided not to reveal his plan yet to rebuild those walls. Not until he’d had a chance to survey the project himself.