The Chronicles of the Kings Collection

“Where’s Miriam?”

  Joshua carefully laid down the knife and plate and rose to face Nathan as if he had something important to say. It pleased Nathan that he had grown nearly as tall as Joshua and could almost look him in the eye. But he knew that no one would ever mistake them for father and son. Nathan was thin and wiry and couldn’t seem to gain weight no matter how much he ate. Everything about him seemed paltry and insignificant compared to Joshua, from his thin brown hair and scraggly new whiskers to his stringy muscles, which were as streamlined as a long-distance courier’s. Joshua walked with the proud bearing of royalty, and his thick, curly hair and full beard were the rich color of ebony. To Nathan, Joshua’s aristocratic posture seemed pretentious on a man who was as bronzed and solidly built as the Egyptian slaves he ordered around all day. And it annoyed Nathan that Joshua paused to wipe his large, callused hands on a towel before answering his question.

  “The midwives were here yesterday to check on Miriam’s pregnancy. They think it would be wise for her to stay in bed.”

  “All day?”

  “Until the baby is born.”

  “You mean for the next six months?” Nathan thought of the frustration he would feel at being confined to his bed for that long and knew that Miriam would feel the same. But he also felt afraid for his sister. Why did she even want a baby if it was going to cause her so much trouble?

  “It has taken five years for her to get pregnant again after losing the baby,” Joshua continued. “We don’t want to take a chance that she’ll lose this one. She’s going to need both of us to help her out. Can I count on you, son?”

  “What do I have to do? Bake the bread?” He meant it as a joke, but he saw by Joshua’s scowl that he had misunderstood. The man was a walking storm cloud, spreading darkness and gloom wherever he went. Nathan wondered how Miriam could stand him.

  “No, of course not,” Joshua said. “I’ll hire extra servants for that, and my mother will help, too.”

  Nathan poked among the bowls of food Joshua had spread out on the table, looking for something else to eat.

  “Here . . . are you looking for the bread?” Joshua handed him a small loaf left over from yesterday. Nathan knocked it against the table to show Joshua how stale it was.

  “I’ll crack a tooth on that stuff. I’m going over to Mattan’s house for breakfast.”

  Joshua’s frown deepened. “Well, I suppose it would be all right this morning . . . but I don’t want you moving in over there. Your uncle Jerimoth has enough mouths to feed as it is.”

  “So? He can afford six kids. He makes more money than Pharaoh does.” Once again, Joshua failed to smile at his attempted humor. He gazed at Nathan with a mournful expression as he idly fingered his stupid eye patch.

  “Don’t be disrespectful, Nathan. Your uncle Jerimoth works very hard for a living and he—Please don’t roll your eyes at me like that.”

  Nathan couldn’t help himself. It was an automatic response to Joshua’s endless lectures. “Can I go now before they clear away all the food?”

  “What about the morning sacrifice? I thought we—”

  “I’m pretty sure Uncle Jerimoth can find the way. He’s been to the sacrifices once or twice before. I’ll follow him.”

  “Nathan, you know I hate it when you’re sarcastic—”

  “Sorry.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes again and slipped out of the back door, quickly crossing the courtyard to Mattan’s house. Not only would the food be better than anything Joshua might attempt to fix, but the atmosphere at jovial Uncle Jerimoth’s house would be an improvement, as well. Nathan could already hear laughter before he opened the door. Mattan sure won the luck of the draw when he got Jerimoth for a father. Nathan was stuck with the King of Gloom. Again he wondered how Miriam could stand him.

  Miriam. He hoped his sister would be all right.

  Nathan had a lot of time to worry about her as he waited for the boring sacrifice to end. Ever since he had learned that Miriam was pregnant again, he had tried not to wish that the baby would die this time. Now he wondered if maybe he should do something more for her. He owed it to her after causing her first baby’s death, yet he wasn’t sure what he should do. He shifted from foot to foot, thinking about his sister as the Levites droned the liturgy. By the time the service finally dragged to an end, he had formulated an idea. He drew his brother, Mattan, aside, knowing he would need his help.

  “Come to the mainland with me, Matt. There’s something I need that I can’t get here.”

  “I’ll have to ask Abba for permission. I’m not allowed to—”

  “If you help me we can be back before he even knows you’re gone.”

  Mattan gave him a hard shove. “What’s wrong with you? I’m not going to disobey my father. I’m going to school.”

  “Jerimoth isn’t your father.”

  “Yes he is!” Mattan stood with his hands on his hips, daring Nathan to contradict him.

  “All right, then. He is. But I still need your help. Your father will never even know you were gone. Come on. It’s important.”

  “I don’t understand you at all,” Mattan said, shaking his head. “Your father loves you. Why do you keep defying him all the time?”

  “He’s not my father.”

  “You’re going to go too far one of these days, and he’ll finally give up on you. Then you’ll realize how stupid you’ve been—after it’s too late.”

  As Mattan stormed off, Nathan realized that he should have borrowed some money from him for the boat fare. His mission on shore was too important to risk being caught as a thief or a stowaway. Now he would have to return home and scrounge for some loose silver. Joshua had arrived home from the sacrifice first, so Nathan hid behind the courtyard wall, watching from a distance as Joshua carried Miriam outside, where she could rest in the shade. As soon as Joshua left for work, Nathan crept into the house and looked around for Joshua’s silver pouch. There wasn’t much in it—enough for the ferry but not enough for Nathan to buy what he wanted. He chose two small pieces that Joshua would never miss then left the house as quietly as he’d come and hurried to the ferry dock.

  Nathan hadn’t been to the mainland by himself since his disastrous trip five years ago, but he didn’t have time to savor the exhilarating taste of freedom. He could talk his way out of being tardy for his lessons, using his sister, Miriam, as an excuse, but not for missing his lessons entirely. As soon as the boat landed, Nathan went straight to the marketplace, scanning all the booths until he found the one he wanted—the one where all of Egypt’s gods were on display. Some of the idols were carved from ivory, some from wood or stone, but the expensive ones, made of gold and silver, perched on a shelf in the rear where only the owner could reach them.

  When Nathan had lived on the mainland, the craftsman he’d been apprenticed to had worshiped a collection of household gods and goddesses every morning and evening. He had explained to Nathan which goddess had blessed him with four strong, healthy sons—Taweret. Maybe the goddess could help Miriam deliver a strong, healthy son, as well. An ivory image of Taweret was on display near the front of the booth. Nathan knew it would be difficult to steal the image by himself with no one to distract the owner, but he had no choice. He sauntered up to the booth, cursing Mattan beneath his breath for not coming along to help him. The merchant glared at him.

  “What are you looking at, Jew? There’s nothing here you want. Move along!”

  Nathan bowed politely, adopting the humble pose he had perfected on his dim-witted Torah instructors. “Excuse me, sir. I’m an apprentice for an Egyptian bronze caster here on the mainland. My master sent me—”

  “You’re a lying Jew, aren’t you! Be off with you!”

  Nathan remembered the beating he’d endured at the hands of filthy Egyptian pigs like him, and his temper soared out of control. He didn’t have the time or the patience to work one of his con games on this fool. In a fit of desperate anger, he pointed to the shelf behind the man’s head.
r />   “It’s going to fall! Look out!” When the owner whirled around to see, Nathan snatched the idol from the display and ran.

  “Stop! Thief! That Jewish boy is a thief!”

  Nathan knew it had been a stupid, clumsy way to steal something, but the man’s contempt had driven him to it. Now there was nothing he could do but run through the unfamiliar streets, searching for a place to hide. Stunned shoppers stared at him as he pushed them aside and sprinted past. Nathan hoped that the idol merchant would give up the chase, but he continued to shout an alarm as he ran behind him.

  “Stop him! He’s a thief!” Several bystanders tried to grab Nathan, but he twisted out of their grasp and shoved them to the ground. More men joined the merchant, taking up the chase. Nathan was tempted to toss the idol aside so they would have no proof of his theft, but Miriam needed it. Fear for her and for himself kept him going, desperate to escape. As he ran on and on, with his pursuers close behind, Nathan realized with horror that he was living his nightmare.

  Just as he was ready to drop from exhaustion, he suddenly remembered the junkyard full of slag and debris behind the foundry where he had once worked. On his last reserve of strength, he staggered into the deserted dump and dove beneath a pile of scrap wood. The narrow hiding place was impossibly small. They would never look for him there. A moment later he heard his pursuers’ shouts as they ran into the yard behind him.

  “There’s no way we’ll ever find him in this mess,” someone said. “We’ve lost him.”

  “I don’t care. Search anyway!” Nathan recognized the idol merchant’s voice. He heard the men tossing pieces of junk around as they searched.

  “We’d better send some men to watch the dock,” the idol merchant warned. “He’ll have to take the ferry if he wants to get home to Elephantine Island.”

  Nathan’s heart sank like a stone in the Nile as he realized that he was trapped on the mainland. He lay unmoving, barely breathing, as the Egyptians combed the scrapyard. Hours seemed to pass before they finally gave up the search. Nathan stayed hidden until he was certain they were gone, then chose the largest chunk of wood he could carry and carefully made his way out of the village. A mile upstream, he waded into the river and began to paddle, clinging to his makeshift raft. With any luck, the current would carry him downstream to the southern tip of the island. Joshua had warned him that there were crocodiles in those waters, but Nathan would sooner take his chances with crocodiles than risk getting caught by the Egyptians.

  He seemed to float in the filthy water forever, and by the time a Jewish fisherman pulled him into his boat, just offshore from the island, Nathan was exhausted from paddling and thoroughly sick from vomiting all the muddy water he had swallowed.

  “What happened to you, boy? You fall overboard?”

  “I was spearing fish when I fell in. The current took me away.” The fisherman looked doubtful but didn’t question Nathan’s lie.

  It was late afternoon when Nathan reached home and slipped inside without being seen. The idol had miraculously survived the ordeal tucked inside his robe, and he hid it beneath his sleeping mat. Then he peeled off his ruined clothes and crawled beneath the blankets. The next thing he knew, Joshua was shaking him awake.

  “Nathan? What’s wrong, are you sick?” His callused fingers touched Nathan’s brow.

  “I never made it to my classes. I’ve been in bed all day. I’m sick to my stomach.”

  “Are these your clothes? I’ll take them outside. They smell bad.” He bent to pick up the dripping bundle. “Nathan, they’re soaking wet!”

  “I tried to wash the vomit off. I guess I didn’t do a very good job.”

  Joshua held them at arm’s length as he gazed down at Nathan. “Are you going to be all right? Can I get you anything?”

  Before Nathan could reply, there was an urgent pounding on the front door. He closed his eyes as his heart pounded in reply. Joshua dropped the clothes again. “I’ll be right back.”

  Nathan sat up, straining to hear who it was, wondering if he should run while he still had the chance. The voice at the door sounded somber, official.

  “Good afternoon, my lord. We’re sorry to disturb you, but we would like to have a word with your son if he’s home.”

  “Nathan? He’s sick in bed. Why? What’s this about?”

  “The Egyptian authorities have come over from the mainland. One of their merchants reported a robbery this morning, an idol carved from ivory. They said the thief was a Jewish teenager.”

  “Are you accusing my son?”

  “He has a reputation as a thief.”

  “That was—how long ago—five years! Don’t you dare call Nathan a thief unless you have proof!”

  Nathan crawled from his mat to listen beside the door to the main room, scarcely able to believe that Joshua would defend him. Again, he had the urge to run but knew he wouldn’t get far on an island.

  “I’m sorry,” the elder continued, “but we checked with the rabbi before we came to see you. He said Nathan skipped his Torah class today.”

  “I already told you he was home, sick.”

  “Yes. And there is a simple way to prove if that is true. This is the captain of the ferry. He says that a Jewish boy was one of his passengers this morning, and he thinks he can identify him. We’d like to question Nathan if you don’t mind.”

  “I do mind. I resent your accusations.”

  Nathan stepped through the doorway into the room. “Ask me anything you want.” He didn’t know why he had come forward, exactly, but he did know that it was useless to try to hide. But more than that, he wanted to hurt Joshua, to see him humiliated in front of these men. He needed to prove to himself that Joshua was a liar, that he didn’t love him like a real son, that he would give up on him if pushed to the limit.

  “That’s the boy,” the ferryman said, pointing. “He rode over on my ship.”

  Nathan recognized the other men as three of Elephantine’s elders. “What were you doing on the mainland?” their leader asked.

  Nathan glanced at Joshua, expecting an explosion of anger like the one he had received the last time he’d stolen something. Instead, the pain he saw on Joshua’s face stunned him. His father seemed to age twenty years as he rested a trembling hand against the wall to steady himself. Nathan had a sudden premonition of Joshua growing old, dying. He felt a stab of fear.

  When Joshua’s anger finally did come, it was directed at the elders, not at Nathan. “You have no right to come into my home and accuse my son like this. I’m his father. It’s my duty to question him and to discipline him if he’s done anything wrong.”

  “But if a member of our community is accused of theft, it reflects on all of us. We have to clear this up and let the Egyptian authorities know that the thief has been caught and punished. We have to assure them that it won’t happen again.”

  “Do you trust me to handle my household according to the Law?”

  “No one questions your honesty or integrity, Joshua.”

  “But you question my son’s?” The elders didn’t answer. “I’d like you to leave so I can speak to Nathan alone,” Joshua said calmly. “You can wait for us at the city square. If he’s guilty, you’ll have his confession. If he’s innocent, we’ll expect an apology. Good day.”

  Joshua closed the door behind them and turned to face Nathan, leaning against the door for support. Nathan’s heart raced faster than it had when fleeing from the idol merchant. He couldn’t read the emotions etched on Joshua’s face and had no idea what to expect next. Joshua continued to gaze at him without speaking until Nathan’s insides turned to water. He could no longer stand the silent suspense.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me if I did it?”

  Joshua shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I couldn’t bear it if you lied to me, son.”

  Nathan had been in confrontations with Joshua before, but he felt something different this time, something he couldn’t quite identify
. It wasn’t exactly fear—he wasn’t afraid of Joshua, nor did he fear a beating. He had been beaten before and knew he could take it. No, it was something else . . . a fear he couldn’t define.

  “How long are we going to stand here looking at each other?” Nathan finally asked, unable to bear the strain.

  “That’s up to you.”

  Nathan suddenly remembered Mattan’s warning that one day he would push Joshua too far, and he felt his stomach twist again. Was he afraid that Joshua would kick him out? No, he knew he could get by on his own. He had done that before, too. He didn’t need Joshua. He wasn’t afraid.

  But he was.

  Joshua’s patience was maddening. If he had ranted and raved, Nathan could have fought back, but he didn’t know how to fight the pain and disappointment he saw in Joshua’s eyes, the empty silence that stretched endlessly between them.

  “What do you want from me?” Nathan shouted.

  “The truth,” Joshua said hoarsely. “Just the truth.”

  “You believe them, don’t you? You think I did it.”

  “I have no way of knowing if you did it or not. But I do know that I taught you right from wrong. I taught you what the Law says about stealing and about lying. I taught you that idolatry is a grave sin.” Nathan watched Joshua’s Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed. “If you tell me you’re innocent, then I’ll defend you against your accusers. If you’ve made a mistake, Nathan, and you’re sorry for it, then I’ll forgive you.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Joshua lowered his head as a wave of stunned sadness washed across his features. Nathan’s heart raced faster. When Joshua finally looked up, Nathan was amazed to see that he was fighting tears.

  “Have I ever lied to you, son?” His voice was so low it was almost a whisper.

  Joshua’s words couldn’t possibly be true. He would never forgive Nathan. He would abandon him forever if he knew the truth. Nathan wanted to prove him a liar.

  “I did it. I stole the idol.”

  Joshua closed his eyes. He didn’t speak.

  “You’re not surprised, are you? You knew I took it.”