Faith of My Fathers (37 page)

Hidden inside the entrance to another cave, the beggar watched the shadowy forms moving in the mist near the dump. Something odd was going on over there. Ever since two strangers moved into one of the other caves, the beggar had been on the alert. It only took him a few days of watching to catch on to the fact that they were smuggling something out of the city along with their garbage and stashing it in that cave. But he hadn’t quite decided what to do about it yet.

If the loot was valuable, the strangers would be armed. The beggar knew he would need help overpowering them before he could make off with their goods. He needed to consider all of his colleagues carefully, working out in his mind who to let in on his secret. If he blabbed to the wrong man about a heist this big, he could get himself killed.

But now it looked as though he had debated too long. There was a lot of movement over there tonight, and the loot was being hauled away by a dozen new men. He cursed himself for being too slow to act. He had missed his big chance to score. What if the smuggling operation didn’t continue after tonight?

He watched the steady rain form huge puddles outside his cave as he debated what to do. The rain would turn all the roads out of Jerusalem into mud. The smugglers would leave a trail any child could follow. But once all the pilgrims left the city tomorrow morning, the trail would be wiped out. There wasn’t enough time to gather a gang and waylay the smugglers. He couldn’t even tell his fellow thieves what they were smuggling!

No, the only chance he saw to benefit from this whole escapade was to alert the authorities and hope for a reward. Let trained soldiers fight the battle, not him. A small payment was better than nothing at all, which is what he had at the moment.

As the beggar watched, the knot of men across the valley formed into a caravan and disappeared down the valley road into the fog. Another group of men, five of them, started climbing up the hill to the Temple again. The beggar pulled his cloak over his head and sprinted down the valley through the rain to the Water Gate.

“I want to report a smuggling ring,” he told the sentries standing guard. His words were met with howls of laughter. “Take me to your captain, then,” he shouted above the noise.

The raucous debate among the soldiers about what to do with him seemed to take forever. Meanwhile, the thieves were probably disappearing into the night along with his hopes for a reward. The beggar persisted, shouting wildly, until he was finally dragged up to the palace and brought before the captain of the guard.

The captain sat in his booth by the front entrance, cleaning his fingernails with a knife. The aroma of roasting meat drifted out from somewhere inside the palace, making the thief ’s mouth water. Maybe he’d settle for a leg of mutton instead of silver.

“What’s your story, old man?” The captain wore an expression of boredom on his bland face.

“Those priests at the Temple are up to something, my lord. I’ve been watching them. They’ve been smuggling stuff out with their garbage and stashing it in a cave in the Kidron Valley. Tonight I saw a caravan down there, hauling it all away.”

The captain looked up at him and sheathed his knife. “Which Temple priests are these?”

“I wouldn’t know the difference, my lord. They’re the ones who carry stuff to the dump every day.”

“And how long have they been doing this?”

“All week, my lord.”

“Can you prove your story?”

“I’ll take you down there myself. You’ll see all their footprints in the mud by the cave. I’m sure their pack animals left a trail, too. Your men could still catch them on horseback if they hurried.”

The captain folded his arms across his chest. “Do you know what the penalty is for leading us on a wild goose chase?”

“Yes, my lord. But I’m telling you the truth. I could use the reward money, sir.”

The captain stood. “Very well, I’ll go down with you myself and—”

Suddenly the door flew open and one of the palace guards rushed in. “Captain, you must come right away! Someone just tried to assassinate King Manasseh!”

When Manasseh opened his eyes he was lying bare-chested on Dinah’s bed. His blood-soaked tunic had been torn away and one of the royal physicians was pressing a thick wad of bloody cloths against his stomach. “Lie still, Your Majesty. Don’t move.”

Sweat rolled into Manasseh’s eyes. “Where is she?”

“In the dungeon beneath the palace,” Zerah answered. “In chains.” He dipped another cloth in cold water and laid it on Manasseh’s forehead.

“I want her executed! Tonight!”

Zerah turned to the doctors. “Is the bleeding under control?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then leave us.” Zerah waited until the physicians and servants left the room. Then he sat on the edge of the bed beside Manasseh. “When your bodyguards saw what she did to you, they beat her. I stopped them before they killed her. It isn’t in your best interests to execute her just yet. You need an heir from this woman first.”

Manasseh closed his eyes to make the dizziness stop. “The prophecy . . . the night of the equinox. The spirits warned me that I had another enemy. I just never imagined . . .”

“None of us did, Your Majesty. I’m sorry. We should have been more alert.”

The pain in his gut was the worst Manasseh had ever known. He moaned in agony. “Am I going to die?”

Zerah wrung out another cloth and placed it on his brow. “Don’t upset yourself. I’m seeking omens right now.”

Manasseh glanced down at his arm. The wound was wrapped in a bandage with a strip of linen tied tightly above his elbow to stop the bleeding. “Untie this thing, Zerah. It’s too tight. I can’t feel my fingers.”

Zerah shook his head. “The cut was very deep. Leave it for the doctors.”

“Well, get them in here. I need something for the pain!”

“First, we must decide what to do about Dinah.”

“I don’t know . . . I can’t think. What should I do?”

“Offer her to Asherah, Your Majesty. Make her fulfill her service. Then the goddess will bless you with an heir.”

“But I’m the king. If another man has her . . .”

“Of course. You’re right. When he’s finished, the man who chooses her will be killed. And once she provides you with an heir, she will be killed.”

21

B
Y THE TIME THE CAPTAIN
returned to his guard booth, the beggar was curled up on the floor asleep, dreaming of roasted lamb. The captain shook him with his foot. “Old man! Wake up!”

The beggar sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It took him a moment to remember where he was. “King Manasseh . . . the assassin?”

“Everything is under control for the moment. Are you still sticking with your smuggling story?”

“I know what I saw, my lord. But surely the smugglers are long gone by now. It’s almost dawn, isn’t it?”

“Take me there just the same. I want to see for myself if there’s any truth to your story. After tonight, I’m leaving nothing to chance.”

The sky was growing light by the time they reached the Temple dump, but thick fog still hung like gauze over the valley. Even in the gloom, the muddy footprints in the cave and the caravan trail down the valley road were plain enough for any man to see. The beggar watched smugly as the soldiers inspected the evidence. When they finished, the captain walked over to him.

“I was telling the truth, wasn’t I?”

“So it seems. How many times a day do the Levites come down to this dump?”

“Twice a day. A few hours or so after each sacrifice.”

“And you didn’t see what it was they were smuggling?”

“No, sir. Everything was wrapped up in cloths. But I figured it was all different things because they were all different sizes. Do I get my reward now?”

“Come back to the guardhouse with me, and I’ll see that you’re properly rewarded.”

Rain clouds hung stubbornly over the city as Joshua watched thousands of pilgrims stream into the Temple courtyard for the final morning convocation. There would be a huge traffic jam when they all departed afterward. The guards couldn’t possibly notice the Levites and their families among so many people.

Joshua pushed his way through the crowd to the southwest corner of the Temple wall where the priests blew the shofars. Amos was the trumpeter who was sounding the call to worship this morning. Joshua waited at the bottom of the stairs for him to finish.

“You’ll find a cart and a team of oxen outside the Sheep Gate,” Joshua told him. “They’re yours. For Yael.”

Amos stared at him in surprise. “How can I thank you for this?”

“Understand me, Amos. I didn’t do it for you. It’s a gift for Yael.”

“Then let me repay you—” He reached for his money pouch. Joshua grabbed his wrist. He wanted to break the fat little man’s arm.

“You even try to pay me, and I’ll throw your silver into the gutter and spit on it!” He let him go again. Amos rubbed his arm.

“You’re in love with my wife, aren’t you.”

“The Torah tells me it’s a sin to love another man’s wife. But it doesn’t tell me how I’m supposed to stop loving her. She was meant to be mine, not yours.”

“I didn’t marry her to spite you, Joshua. We didn’t know you would return for her. I’m sorry—”

“You’re not sorry, so don’t insult me with your pity. I hate you enough as it is.” Joshua felt the familiar pain swelling inside his chest, suffocating him.

“The Torah also says it’s a sin to hate,” Amos said quietly.

“Are you worried that I’ll burn in Sheol for it, Amos? Do me a favor, then—when Yael is safe in Egypt, you can sacrifice the oxen as a sin offering for my soul.”

Joshua knew he had to get away before he lost his temper. He could already hear the air whistling through his lungs as he strained to breathe. He had to stay calm. Getting upset only made his breathing attacks worse. But he turned to Amos one last time. “Take care of her,” he said softly. Then he hurried away to the south gate to meet Hadad.

He found him already waiting outside the gate, glancing around nervously. Hadad’s hands were trembling. “Are you all right?” Joshua asked him.

“A little nervous, that’s all.”

Joshua realized, too late, that his brother had been right. Hadad lacked the strength of character for such risky business as this. But Joshua had no time to change his plans.

“I, uh . . . I’ve been watching the royal walkway for a while,” Hadad said. “Prince Amariah hasn’t come up from the palace yet. No one has.” When Hadad looked up at him, Joshua smelled the fruity odor of wine on his breath. He gripped the top of Hadad’s arm from behind, where no one could see, and squeezed.

“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”

“Ow! Just a little to calm my nerves, I swear! You’re hurting me!”

“Then you can imagine what I’ll do to you if you mess this up.” After a moment he let him go again.

As the convocation began and the first strains of music floated toward them from inside the Temple enclosure, Joshua knew that his plan to kidnap Amariah was beginning to unravel.

“Now what?” Hadad asked. “The sacrifice is starting.”

“We’ll stay here and watch for Amariah.”

“What if he doesn’t come?”

Joshua closed his eyes. “He has to come,” he whispered.