The Chronicles of the Kings Collection

  Mattan hoped that Nathan would finally give up the idea, but he grinned at his remaining friends and asked, “So . . . are you with me?”

  “Yeah! Let’s do it!” they all agreed. Then they looked at Mattan, who had remained silent.

  “Your brother isn’t going to rat on us, is he?” one of them asked.

  Nathan slapped Mattan’s back good-naturedly. “Nah, he’s all right. You won’t tell on us, will you, Matt? Hey, I know! Why don’t you come along, too? Find out what women are all about.”

  “It’s a bad idea, Nate. You’ve had a little too much beer. Let’s go see if there’s any food left. Come on.”

  Mattan set down his mug and headed toward the food tables, hoping that Nathan would give up his crazy idea and follow him. Matt was tired and ready to go home. The best thing he could do for his brother was to convince him to go home, too, and sleep it off. He glanced back to see if Nathan was following him and saw him hurrying away from the square with his friends, heading toward the ferry dock. They rounded the corner and disappeared into the night.

  Nathan wasn’t that stupid, was he? But then Mattan remembered how drunk his brother was and decided he’d better follow him. He turned to retrace his steps, but the mob in the crowded square slowed Mattan’s progress.

  “Where have you been hiding all night, Matt?” one of his friends asked, stopping him. “Want to join us?”

  “I can’t . . . I have to go . . .”

  “Go where? What’s your hurry?”

  How could he explain? It took several minutes to disentangle himself, and by the time Mattan finally reached the dock, Nathan was gone. Mattan saw a small papyrus boat halfway across the channel, silhouetted in the moonlight, and heard his brother’s drunken laughter carry across the dark water.

  “You won’t tell on us, will you, Matt?”

  He slowly walked back to where his father was seated at their table. Mattan’s youngest sister was asleep in his lap, and he was rocking her gently, tapping his foot in time to the music.

  “Abba?”

  “Yes, son?” His father’s eyes glowed with contentment as he looked up. Mattan loved the way Abba said the word son, conveying so much pride and love in a single word. Mattan remembered the first day they had met in Jerusalem and how he had fled to Abba’s open arms for solace. Jerimoth’s arms had been open for him ever since. At age eighteen, Mattan was too old to curl up on Abba’s lap. But the knowledge that he could, if he needed to, comforted him.

  “Did you have a question, son?”

  “Abba . . . how do I know whether or not it’s right to do something?”

  “The Torah is always your best guide.”

  “I’m not sure if the answer is in the Torah. And I’m not sure if . . .”

  “Tell me as much or as little as you want, son. I promise I won’t pry for more information.” He smiled his warm, familiar smile, and Mattan knew he would keep his word.

  “Abba, is it wrong to tell on someone if they’re trusting you not to?”

  “If you made a vow, then you must keep it.”

  “I didn’t make a vow.”

  “Hmm . . . Then it’s more complex, isn’t it?” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “The Torah says we must always seek to do our neighbor good and protect him from harm. Will keeping this secret harm someone? Or protect him?”

  “Both. I mean, if I mind my own business everything could turn out all right. He won’t get into trouble unless he gets caught.”

  “And if you tell what you know?”

  “Then he’s certain to get into trouble.”

  “Suppose you were in this person’s place. Which action would be more helpful to you? I don’t mean the immediate consequences, but in the long term? Is he making a mistake that could hurt him for the rest of his life?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you prevent that damage?”

  Mattan nodded slightly. “Thanks, Abba.”

  He turned and wandered slowly away, scanning the faces in the crowd. When his younger brothers skipped up to him and began pulling on his arms again, he gently pried them off. “I need to talk to Uncle Joshua. Have you seen him?”

  “Over there,” they said, pointing.

  Joshua looked content as he sat beside Prince Amariah, watching the festivities. This had been a memorable day for him with the dedication of the new temple. Ever since Miriam had almost died, Uncle Joshua had been a different man—more focused in his work, more at peace. Nathan had been involved in the usual minor incidents of youth since his flogging two years ago but certainly nothing as serious as going to a pagan orgy on the mainland. If Mattan just kept quiet, maybe Nathan wouldn’t get caught. Maybe he could sneak home in the morning with nothing worse than a bad hang-over, and Uncle Joshua would never know that he had been to an Egyptian worship festival.

  While Mattan watched, Joshua suddenly threw his head back and laughed at something the prince said. Mattan turned away. He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t ruin this joyous day for him. But then he realized that he wasn’t ruining it, Nathan was. Why did his brother want to hurt Uncle Joshua this way? And why was he so hell-bent on destruction? The Torah commanded Mattan to protect his brother from harm. He turned around and slowly walked to his uncle’s table.

  “Uncle Joshua, may I talk to you?”

  “Certainly. Excuse us, please, Your Majesty.” He stood and began strolling away with him, resting his hand on Mattan’s shoulder. His uncle was a good man, a kind man. He didn’t deserve to have Nathan causing him so much trouble. At that moment Mattan hated his brother.

  “What is it, Mattan?” Joshua asked as they walked.

  “Nathan drank a little too much Egyptian beer. He . . . he and three of his friends decided to go to the mainland.”

  Joshua halted, swaying slightly as if the earth had suddenly jolted to a stop. Mattan wondered if he was remembering Nathan’s last trip to the mainland and picturing the vivid cross-hatched scars on Nathan’s back. When Joshua finally spoke, his voice was a monotone of pain. “Did he tell you why?”

  “The Egyptians are celebrating the festival of Osiris. He said he wanted to go . . . you know . . . for the Egyptian girls.”

  “Do you know which three friends went with him?”

  “Colonel Simeon’s son and the sons of Reuben and Caleb, the Levites.” Mattan saw Joshua scanning the crowd and knew he was searching for the three men. They would have to be told. “Uncle Joshua?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did I do the right thing?”

  He nodded almost absently and squeezed Mattan’s shoulder. Then he wove through the crowd and Mattan saw him draw Reuben the Levite aside.

  When Mattan glanced back toward his family’s table he saw his father watching him. Abba’s expression was sorrowful, but when their eyes met, he nodded.

  “God of Abraham,” Mattan whispered, “please don’t ever let me hurt Abba this way.”

  For Joshua, the trip to the mainland seemed to take three days. The two Levites on either side of him gazed silently across the dark river, as paralyzed by what their sons had done as he was, but Colonel Simeon lashed out at Joshua during the entire voyage.

  “Your son is behind this! Nathan has been a troublemaker on this island from the very first day. Lying. Stealing. Dabbling with idols!”

  Joshua was too numb to feel any more pain. He knew Simeon was right; Nathan had done all of those things and more. As the harsh words rained down on him, he could only ask God to forgive him for not listening to Nathan earlier tonight, for not loving him as a father should. Then he prayed for the grace to love him now.

  “Your son coaxed the others into this; I know he did. They’re basically good boys, but Nathan is a no-good, disobedient rebel! He—”

  “Enough,” Reuben finally said. “All of our sons are guilty.”

  “But not as guilty as his son! I demand justice! I’ll see that Nathan is stoned to death for his disobedience, just as the Torah decrees!”

  “No
one stones their rebellious children anymore,” Caleb said dully.

  “Well, maybe they should! Look what happened to our homeland. We shouldn’t allow sinners and idol worshipers to live!”

  “Then our sons would die, as well,” Reuben said.

  “Our sons deserve a second chance. They’ve never done anything like this before, but Joshua’s son has been in trouble before. He’s the instigator. At the very least he should be banished from our island for good. If he wants to go out in the world and frolic among pagan gods, let him. But keep him away from my children!”

  Joshua leaned over the rail of the boat, fighting nausea. He remembered how he had brought Nathan back home after making him work on the mainland ten years ago and how he’d given him his name. But in spite of all his efforts to love him, Nathan had rebelled again and again. How had Joshua ever imagined that God could use him to reclaim Judah from idolatry when he couldn’t even restrain his only son?

  He heard the roar of the celebration and the throb of pagan drums long before the boat finally docked. The temple of Osiris, god of the Nile, stood in a plaza near the river. Yahweh had placed His temple, His sanctuary, in the middle of the heathen river god’s domain. Joshua wondered how the next generation of their tiny remnant would ever resist the fatal lure of idolatry after the generation of men who had fled Jerusalem with him were all dead.

  He stepped off the boat like a man in a daze and followed the sounds of revelry. But when he finally entered the torchlit square, Joshua jolted awake. The Egyptian festival was so vile and disgusting, it took every ounce of willpower he had to keep from turning away and running back to the boat. He waded through the depravity with only one thought—this was the work of the Evil One. Joshua had to rescue his son from him.

  Nathan and his friends were easy to spot among the beardless Egyptians. The three men who had come with Joshua quickly grabbed their sons, who were watching the orgy in astonishment from the edge of the crowd. Nathan was the only one participating. He was locked in an embrace with a young Egyptian girl.

  The force of Joshua’s fury nearly blinded him. It wasn’t directed at Nathan but at the sin that had ensnared him and would eventually destroy him. Joshua had seen the devastation that sin had wrought on Manasseh. He had witnessed the resulting enslavement of his people. He wouldn’t let the Evil One claim another victim. Especially Nathan.

  “You can’t have my son!” he cried as he wrenched Nathan from the girl’s grasp. A hush rippled through the crowd for the space of a heartbeat as Joshua hauled Nathan to his feet.

  Nathan was startled, angry, and very drunk. “What do you think you’re doing? You have no right—”

  “I have every right! I’m your father!”

  “No you’re not! You’re not my father!” He stumbled drunkenly, too disoriented to resist, as Joshua dragged him out of the square and toward the ferry dock. The pagan orgy quickly resumed behind them. But as they neared the boat, with the others already on board ready to depart, Nathan halted.

  “I’m never going back there with you!” He took a wild swing and caught Joshua by surprise, his fist smashing painfully into Joshua’s jaw. Without thinking, Joshua struck back with a blow to his son’s gut that knocked him backward. Nathan stumbled and nearly fell, but when he regained his balance he lowered his head and rushed at Joshua, fists flailing. Joshua blocked most of his blows, then planted a punch on the side of his son’s face. Nathan sprawled to the ground, blood streaming from his nose.

  “That’s enough, Nathan!”

  He was much too drunk to fight, but he scrambled to his feet and came at him again. Joshua landed another blow that split his lip. When Nathan still wouldn’t quit, Joshua leaped on top of him and wrestled him to the ground. He didn’t want to hurt him, but Nathan had turned into a madman. There was no other way to subdue him except to fight. They rolled over and over in the dirt, pummeling each other.

  Nathan fought recklessly. He was quick and strong from his military training, and he brawled with the scrappiness of youth. But Joshua was heavier, more muscular, and unwilling to lose his son to idols. He finally managed to pin him to the ground, planting his knee in Nathan’s back, twisting his arm behind him.

  “You know better than to commit adultery! I taught you! The priests taught you! And you certainly know better than to worship with pagans! There is one God, Nathan—ONE! Say the Shema!”

  “Let me go.”

  “Not until you say it. ‘Hear, O Israel . . .’”

  “I hate your guts!”

  “Fine. Hate me. I can live with that. But I won’t let you hate God. I won’t let you defy Him and show contempt for His laws. Say it, Nathan!”

  Instead, Nathan cursed.

  The river was only a few feet away. Joshua stood and hauled his son to his knees, then lifted him by his tunic and threw him into the water. He waded in after him, pushing his head under, holding him there until Nathan flailed in panic.

  “Are you crazy?” he gasped when Joshua brought him to the surface. “You want to kill me?”

  “You’re killing yourself. ‘The evil deeds of a wicked man ensnare him; the cords of his sin hold him fast. He will die for lack of discipline, led astray by his own great folly.’ Now say it!”

  “Why don’t you disown me and get it over with! Then you can get out of my life!”

  “I can’t do that. I’m your father.”

  “You’re not my—”

  Joshua pushed him under, holding him beneath the black water with trembling hands. When he finally let him up, Nathan gagged and coughed, gasping for air.

  “Help . . . stop!”

  “Do you want me to drown you?”

  “No . . . don’t . . . !”

  “You should fear God half as much as you fear me right now.” He plunged him under and held him down for almost a minute before pulling him up. Nathan vomited river water and beer.

  “You’re going to kill me!”

  “Living a sinful life and defying God’s laws are going to kill you. But that’s a slow, painful way to die. I’ll save you the trouble and drown you quickly.” Nathan clawed frantically as Joshua forced his head under one more time. “Now say it!” he demanded when he finally brought Nathan to the surface. “‘Hear, O Israel . . .’”

  “‘Yahweh is God . . .’” Nathan wept, “‘Yahweh alone. . . .’”

  Joshua dragged him to shore and dropped him on the sand. But when he looked down at his son—bloody, sick, and shivering with fear—he sank to his knees beside him and gathered him into his arms.

  Nathan passed out after Joshua helped him onto the boat. Thankfully, Colonel Simeon was silent on the return trip to the island, as if too deeply shocked by what he had witnessed on the mainland to speak. One of the men helped Joshua carry Nathan home, and they deposited him on his sleeping mat, unconscious.

  Joshua couldn’t sleep. The pain in his heart had swelled until it seemed to fill every inch of him. His bruised jaw ached where Nathan had punched him, and he held the poultice Miriam made against his cheek as they sat outside together, talking until dawn.

  “Maybe you should let him go, Joshua. Let him leave the island.”

  “If he goes—even with one of Jerimoth’s caravans—he’ll never come back.”

  “You’ve done everything you can for him. It’s not your fault that he turned out this way.”

  “I made a vow to be a father to him—”

  “And you’ve kept that vow, time after time. Rebelling was Nathan’s choice.”

  “What will become of him?” He took the poultice off and stared at it blindly. “What in the world will become of him?”

  Not long after sunrise, Joel, the high priest, arrived at their house. Joshua knew that he had probably volunteered to come in place of one of the elders because he was a family member.

  “Nathan’s trial will be held this morning, right after the sacrifice,” Joel said, his voice somber. “The other elders and I have been talking with Caleb, Reuben, and Colonel
Simeon since . . . well, all night, I guess.”

  “What’s going to happen, Joel?”

  “The three men were all eyewitnesses, Josh,” he said with a sigh. “There’s no doubt that Nathan is guilty. Colonel Simeon is demanding justice. He says the punishment for a son who continually rebels is stoning.”

  A shudder rocked through Joshua. “And the other council members?”

  “Divided. Many of them are afraid. They don’t want their sons corrupted, but I don’t think they will go as far as the death penalty. Most of them think Nathan should be banished from the island. I’ve been counseling them to reserve their final judgment until you’ve had a chance to plead Nathan’s case.”

  Joshua gestured helplessly. “There’s no case to plead. Nathan knew the Law, and he disobeyed it. The other boys were just watching, not participating the way he was. You know the Law, too, Joel. You know the trouble Nathan has gotten into before. What defense can I possibly offer?”

  “I don’t know. . . . I’m sorry. I did what I could for you, Joshua.”

  After Joel left, Joshua wandered into the house to change his clothes, pausing to look in on Nathan. One of his eyes was black-and-blue from the beating Joshua had given him, his face swollen and caked with dried blood. Miriam had stripped off his wet clothes, but his hair was matted with mud and weeds from the river. Joshua remembered being angry enough to drown him, and he was filled with remorse for losing control. He thought about all the trouble and heartbreak Nathan had caused through the years, and he wanted it to end. But he realized that the pain wouldn’t end once Nathan was banished from the island. He had been part of Joshua’s life for more than twelve years. Nathan would remain in his heart even if they were separated forever. The knowledge brought tears to his eyes.

  As Joshua stood looking down at him, Nathan rolled over and opened his eyes. When he saw Joshua he groaned and draped his arm across his face as if trying to hide. Joshua sank to the floor beside the mat, leaning wearily against the wall.

  “How much do you remember from last night?” he asked.

  Nathan’s mumbled reply was soft. “More than I’d like to.”