He cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded strangled when he spoke. “You twist up to . . . to pierce your enemy’s heart.” He gazed into the distance above their heads, afraid to look at them, afraid to see that they were the same age as the guard he had killed. The boy wouldn’t have died if Joshua had remembered to disarm him. Joshua struggled against narrowing air passages to draw a breath. The air wheezed through his lungs when he spoke.
“Have any of you ever killed a man?” he asked, still gazing past them. “No, of course you haven’t. . . . It’s not—” Joshua shuddered again as he relived the moment that the second guard ran his sword through Maki’s body. “It’s . . . it’s not . . .”
He closed his eyes. It was his fault that Maki had died. Joshua had blundered out of the house too soon. He had no memory of killing the second guard in retaliation, but he would never forget what the man’s body had looked like after he’d hacked him to death. “God forgive me,” he murmured. He felt the silent scrutiny of his men. He was their hero, the leader who had orchestrated their deliverance from Judah. His present behavior must appear strange to them. He cleared his throat again.
“Killing a man isn’t the same as stabbing a sack of straw,” he said at last. “For one thing, there will be blood—more than you can imagine. And it’s warm. . . . It never occurred to me that blood would be so warm. . . .”
He had to get a hold of himself, get on with the exercises. He shook his head. “But when you’re in combat, you will either kill or be killed. You’ll do what you need to do.” He yanked his knife from the straw and slipped it into the sheath at his belt, angry with himself for sounding so apologetic. “Go ahead, start practicing.”
Joshua stood back, still shaken, and watched the recruits attack the straw dummies. The familiar sounds transported him to Jerusalem, and for a moment he was training with General Benjamin again in the courtyard outside the palace. He recalled Manasseh’s steely concentration as he attacked the straw figures, the gleam of zeal in his eyes.
“Whose face do you see on that straw man that makes you so eager to kill him?” Joshua had once asked him. Manasseh had glared at him without answering.
Joshua had grimly endured his own military training, always eager to return to his academic studies. But Manasseh had reveled in their combat sessions, quickly surpassing Joshua in skill and speed. If they were to fight hand-to-hand now, if Joshua’s rage overpowered him again, he wondered which of them would win.
“Joshua . . . Excuse me, Joshua?”
He returned to the present with a jolt, surprised to see one of the city scribes standing in front of him. How long had the man been waiting?
“I’m sorry. Did you need me for something?” Joshua asked.
“The city elders want to speak with you right away. Can you come?”
Joshua placed one of the older recruits in charge of the exercises and followed the scribe to the square where the elders met to dispense justice. It wasn’t unusual for them to call for Joshua, often sending for him when they were unable to reach a decision. But as he approached he was surprised to see Miriam’s ten-year-old brother, Nathan, standing in the center of the group. A guard held the boy’s thin arms pinned behind his back, but Nathan’s chin was raised in stubborn contempt.
“What’s going on?” Joshua asked.
“We’re sorry to disturb you,” the chief elder said, “but you’re the boy’s legal guardian, aren’t you?”
“Yes. . . . Is there a problem?”
“I’m afraid so. One of the vendors in the marketplace caught him stealing. He ran off with about twenty shekels of silver.”
White-hot anger rushed through Joshua. He grabbed Nathan’s bony shoulders and shook him slightly. “Is this true, Nathan?” Nathan stared defiantly at Joshua without answering. “I asked you a question. Answer me!”
Nathan’s eyes narrowed with cool disdain. “Make me.”
Joshua raised his hand to slap him, then stopped himself in time. Nathan’s disrespect was shameful, but Joshua didn’t want to make things worse by losing his temper. Then another thought occurred to him. “Why aren’t you in school, studying with the rabbi?”
When Nathan gave a snort of contempt and spat on the ground, it took every ounce of restraint Joshua had to keep from striking him. He turned, instead, to one of the elders.
“Please tell Nathan the punishment for stealing.”
“It’s fifteen lashes.”
“Fifteen lashes, Nathan. Are you going to answer my questions, or shall I assume by your silence that you’re guilty and let the elders flog you?”
The boy folded his arms across his chest and raised his chin to stare Joshua in the face. “Why don’t you flog me yourself?”
At that moment, Joshua was angry enough to do it. Nathan was humiliating him, challenging his authority in front of the city elders. Joshua was the second-ranking official of this island community; how would it look if he couldn’t control a skinny ten-year-old boy? His jaw clenched in anger.
“Is there proof of his guilt?” he asked the elders.
“Yes, there were several witnesses.”
“Did the vendor get his silver back?”
The chief elder held up a leather pouch. “It was all here when they caught the boy.”
“Then if you’ll agree to release him into my custody, I’ll see that he is properly punished.”
“That’s fine with us, my lord.” The elders seemed relieved that they wouldn’t have to deal with Nathan. Joshua grabbed the boy by the back of his tunic and hauled him away. He wanted to take him someplace where no one could overhear them—and where Nathan’s disrespect couldn’t further humiliate him. He marched Nathan to the pits outside the village where the laborers mixed mud and straw to make bricks. It was approaching the hottest hour of the day, and the area was deserted as the workers took their break. Joshua pushed Nathan down on a bale of straw and stood over him, his hands on his hips.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
Nathan said nothing.
“You’d better start talking or—”
“Or what?” When Nathan lifted his chin with a sneer of defiance, Joshua slapped him, unable to tolerate any more of the boy’s contempt. Nathan grinned. “It takes a big, tough man to hit a defenseless kid, doesn’t it?”
Joshua stared at the red mark he had made on Nathan’s cheek and battled to keep his rage under control. For some reason, Nathan seemed to want him to lose his temper.
“You deserve a lot more than a slap,” Joshua said. “You owe me for what you did today. You owe me an explanation and an apology.”
Nathan sprang to his feet. “I don’t owe you anything!”
Joshua pushed him down again. “You were nothing but a worthless thief when I took you in, and in spite of all the breaks you’ve been given, it seems that you’re still a worthless thief. I fed you, tried to educate you, made you part of my family—and look how you’ve shown your gratitude: you skip classes, rob vendors in broad daylight, humiliate me in public. After everything I’ve done for you.”
“I never asked you to do any of it!”
“No? Then why didn’t you leave two years ago? Why stay under my roof? Why accept the food and the clothing I’ve given you?”
“Because I had no place else to go, thanks to you.”
“Thanks to me?”
“You’re the wanted criminal, not me. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be living in Jerusalem, not on this filthy rathole of an island in the middle of nowhere!”
“You call this a rathole? I guess you’ve forgotten what your house in Jerusalem looked like? Or how your own mother treated you?”
“It was better than this! You treat my sister and me like the dirt beneath your feet!”
Nathan’s words stunned Joshua. “How can you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth! The only reason you gave Miriam and me a home in the first place was because you killed her father.”
Jo
shua went cold all over. “What did you say?”
“I know what really happened to Maki. Mattan told me. It was your fault that the soldier killed him. You ran out of the door and opened your big fat mouth too soon.”
Joshua stared at Nathan, too stunned to speak. It was true—Maki’s death was Joshua’s fault. But he’d never imagined that anyone else knew the truth.
“Everyone around here thinks you’re such a big hero,” Nathan continued. “But I wonder what they’d say if they knew the truth. If they knew that Maki died because you screwed up!”
Joshua grabbed Nathan by his upper arms and lifted him off the ground, shaking him. “Shut up, you little—!”
“Go ahead, hit me. I dare you. When they ask me about the bruises, I’ll tell Miriam and everyone else what really happened to her father.”
Joshua’s entire body trembled. He released Nathan, then turned and quickly strode away, well aware of what he might do to the boy if he lost control. He headed blindly toward the riverbank, then stumbled aimlessly around the deserted docks, trying not to imagine what would happen to his reputation if Nathan carried out his threat.
Joshua told himself to stay calm. He could easily explain about Maki. He’d made an honest mistake in a moment of panic. He had been upset after killing the first guard because he had never killed anyone before. He had overreacted when he saw that the second guard had caught little Mattan. But even as Joshua replayed the events in his mind, he knew his excuses would sound feeble after so much time had passed. He would risk losing the entire community’s respect for not confessing right away as he should have, instead of waiting two years. They might wonder what else he was hiding. And the men might be reluctant to follow his leadership, afraid that he’d panic again in the heat of battle and cost someone else his life.
Sweat soaked Joshua’s clothes, but he knew it wasn’t from the sun’s heat. He walked for a long time, wandering blindly around the island until he ended up back at the mud pits, where he’d started. Nathan was gone, but the workers had returned to their labors, standing knee-deep in ooze as they mixed mud and straw with their bare feet.
The only way to save his reputation, Joshua decided, was to win back Nathan’s trust and friendship. But how could he do that? Joshua didn’t know anything about raising a son. He never should have agreed to adopt Nathan in the first place. He should have let his brother, Jerimoth, assume responsibility for Nathan as he had for Miriam’s younger brother, Mattan. Now it was too late.
Not knowing what else to do, Joshua headed for the market square to ask Jerimoth’s advice. He found his brother in his booth bargaining with a customer over the price of a bolt of cloth. Joshua ducked beneath the welcome shade of the canopy and waited for the men to finish their haggling.
“I need some advice,” Joshua said when the customer was gone. “I’m having problems with Nathan, and I need to know how you handle Mattan.”
Jerimoth pulled up two rush-bottomed stools and motioned for Joshua to sit. “It’s no mystery,” he said. “Whenever I’m stuck, I simply ask myself what Abba would do.”
His words made Joshua feel worse. Abba wouldn’t have lost his temper. He wouldn’t have slapped Nathan or threatened him. Joshua remembered how he and Manasseh had once skipped classes to go for a walk in the rain. Afterward, he had experienced Abba’s deep disappointment but not his anger. His father had never struck Joshua in his life. He gave a sigh of frustration.
“I’m not very good at being a father.”
Jerimoth motioned to the seat a second time. “Sit. Tell me what happened.”
Joshua didn’t realize how drained he felt until he sank onto the stool. Jerimoth handed him a skin of water, and Joshua took a long drink, wiping his mouth with his fist.
“The elders called me to the square a while ago,” he began. “They caught Nathan stealing. He’s been skipping classes, too.”
“What did you do?”
“I tried to question him, reprimand him. . . . But he was so rude to me, so disrespectful. And I don’t understand why. After all that I’ve done for that kid! I’ve given him everything—”
“Except yourself.”
Joshua felt his temper flare. “I’m a very busy man, Jerimoth. I’m responsible for everyone on this island.”
“Exactly.”
“So you’re saying Nathan’s behavior is my fault?”
“No, I’m saying that because you’ve been too busy to be a father to him, maybe this is his way of getting your attention.”
“By humiliating me in front of the city elders?”
“Did it work? Did he get your attention?”
“Yeah, I guess he did,” he said with a sigh. “But some of the things Nathan said to me . . . and the way he said them . . . it was as if he hates me.”
“Were you loving in return? Remember, ‘Better a patient man than a warrior, a man who controls his temper than one who takes a city.’”
Joshua shook his head dismally. “No, I lost my temper and slapped him.” The memory shamed him, even though Nathan had deserved it. He looked up at his brother again. “Now what? Where do I go from here? To tell you the truth, I’m so disgusted with the kid, I can’t even stand to look at him. There’s nothing worse than a thief and a liar.”
“What did he lie about?”
Joshua realized that Nathan hadn’t lied. But if the boy decided to tell everyone the truth about Maki, Joshua would have to accuse him of lying in order to save his own reputation. Then he remembered that Mattan also knew the truth—and Mattan was Jerimoth’s adopted son. Something cold writhed through Joshua’s stomach as he saw the web of lies that threatened to ensnare him.
“Nathan refused to admit that he stole the silver,” he said at last. “But he didn’t deny it, either. There were too many witnesses. And he wasn’t repentant at all. He wouldn’t offer an excuse or an apology.”
Jerimoth exhaled. “Look, Josh. Why don’t you try to spend a little more time with him? Take him to work with you. Ask him what he wants to do with his life if he isn’t interested in studying with the Levites.”
“It’s not that easy! It’s . . . it’s not! He’s a difficult kid. So insolent and—”
“You almost sound like you’re afraid of him.”
Joshua looked away. He was afraid of Nathan—afraid he would expose the truth.
“He’s a ten-year-old boy,” Jerimoth continued. “He simply needs a little attention, that’s all.”
“Yeah . . . I guess you’re right,” Joshua mumbled. “Thanks for your time. I should go.”
He stopped at Nathan’s school on the way home and learned more bad news. Nathan was insolent toward his instructors, undisciplined in his studies. He seldom completed his work and often skipped class. But Joshua had no idea how to punish Nathan for this behavior without running the risk that the boy would retaliate.
When Joshua finally arrived home that night, he approached Miriam warily, worried that Nathan had decided to tell her the truth about her father’s death. But Miriam acted no differently than usual toward him, and he guessed that Nathan hadn’t carried out his threat—yet. He would likely dangle his knowledge of how Maki had died over Joshua’s head as long as he could in order to get away with even more. The fear of blackmail made Joshua desperate to make peace with the boy at all costs.
“Have you seen Nathan?” he asked Miriam.
“He’s out back in the courtyard.” Miriam stopped Joshua as he headed toward the door. “Did something happen today? Is Nathan in some kind of trouble? He seemed upset when he came home, but he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Joshua knew he hadn’t answered Miriam’s question, and he hated himself for being a coward, for valuing his reputation above the truth. It chilled him to think that once he started lying he would have to tell more lies and half-truths to conceal the first one.
He found Nathan sitting on a bench outside the door, carving a chunk of wood with a knife. The boy was very clever
with his hands, shaving the soft wood in even, graceful strokes. Joshua sat down on the back step opposite him and watched him work for a few minutes. But when he recognized the head of a hippopotamus taking shape beneath Nathan’s fingers, his anger rekindled. The boy knew that the Torah forbade him to make an image of any living thing. What was he doing? Joshua saw Nathan’s concentration, the loving care he gave each stroke of the knife, and he barely restrained his temper, certain that Nathan was making the image to spite him. Finally, he could no longer hold back his words.
“Nathan . . .” The boy continued to whittle without responding or looking up. “Nathan, look at me.” When he did, Joshua saw contempt in his eyes. Nathan knew he had the upper hand. Joshua reminded himself that he had come to make amends, not start another confrontation. “We need to talk about what happened today.”
Nathan looked down again and resumed his work. But when he turned the wood over to carve the other side, Joshua was shocked to see that the figure had the body of a woman, the hands and feet of a lion. It was the Egyptian goddess Taweret. He gritted his teeth, furious with the boy’s audacity.
“Have the rabbis taught you the Ten Commandments, Nathan?”
“Yeah, they taught me.”
“Then you know that the second commandment forbids us to worship idols.”
“I’m not worshiping this, am I?” Nathan spat out each word.
It was all Joshua could do to keep from striking him again. He tried to decide what his own father would do, but he couldn’t even imagine it. No one in his family had ever been so disrespectful and rebellious. In one swift move, Joshua grabbed the wood and the knife out of Nathan’s hands, startling him.
“Hey! Give those back!”
“You can’t carve idols, Nathan. And you can’t steal, and you can’t defy me as you’ve been doing. I’ll have to punish you for all three things. But that’s not why I came out here.” He drew a deep breath, swallowing back his anger. “I came to apologize to you.” Nathan stared, his mouth open in surprise. “I’m sorry that I haven’t spent very much time with you like a . . . like a father should.” As soon as he said the words, Joshua realized that he didn’t think of himself as Nathan’s father. He didn’t want to be “Abba” to him the way Jerimoth was to Mattan. Or the way his own father had been. Undoubtedly, Nathan knew it, too.