Love In A Broken Vessel (39 page)

“I don’t know,” he said simply, meeting her fury with resolute defeat. “I confess I was weak and would do many things differently if I could do them over.”

Hosea almost pitied this man who seemed beaten by his circumstances and untroubled by the venom in a slave’s tone. Was he weak, as he said, or had he used the strength of others to hide his base character?

“Come here, little one.” Ezri pulled a pillow toward him and directed Gomer to it. She seemed hesitant at first, but at his prompting, she nestled close. He wrapped one arm possessively around her waist—like it belonged there—and Hosea watched her soften like the clay on Amoz’s wheel.

Everything inside him screamed,
Get your hands off my wife!
But before he opened his mouth, a gentle voice whispered to his spirit:
Love your wife again, even though she is loved by others and has committed adultery. Love her as I,
Yahweh, love the Israelites, even though they have turned to other gods and love to eat raisin cakes.

Hosea measured this man to whom Gomer offered more than a slave’s obedience.

“I was ruled by the chains of wealth and the whims of my family.” Ezri spoke to the women, drawing them with tender charm. Though he was older, his handsome features had undoubtedly won him favor in both business and personal dealings. “I couldn’t risk displeasing my abba with the social scandal of defending a tainted woman. My wife was so devastated when the potion stripped away all hope of childbearing that I couldn’t bring myself to confess Merav as my sister. Years passed, and my parents died. Soon the secret was easier to keep than to tell.” He focused pitiful eyes on Yuval. “I was loyal to my wife in every way until the day she died. But I had hoped that if Merav remained in Samaria, she would hear of my wife’s death and come searching for me. I suppose that’s why I thought you might be her.”

Gomer reached up and brushed his cheek. “So the last you knew of Merav was her purchase of the brothel?”

“Yes, my treasure. Many years ago, I heard from a merchant friend that the brothel Merav once owned was now managed by a woman named Tamir. I assumed—I hoped—Merav had earned enough silver to retire at leisure or move to another town.”

Gomer glanced at Yuval and then held Ezri’s gaze. “Merav had a kind heart like her brother. I don’t know how Tamir acquired ownership of the brothel, but Merav was the heart and soul that kept the girls alive—gave us hope.” She gathered Ezri’s and Yuval’s hands in her own, linking the siblings through her. “I have known all three of you, and I can assure you—the same caring heart has dwelt inside you all.”

Hosea wasn’t convinced Ezri’s heart would prove caring if he was pushed to sacrifice, and the awkward smile on Yuval’s face suggested she wasn’t sure of his character either. Hosea cleared his throat loudly, signaling the end of the hard-earned
tender moment. Gomer tossed him a disapproving glance, but Yuval scooted closer to Hosea, seeming to need his tender care.

He turned to his host and offered a friendly smile. “Ezri, I believe we’re the only ones in the room who haven’t been introduced. I’m Hosea.” He waited until the man nodded and smiled. “I’m Gomer’s husband.”

• 2 K
INGS
15:23–25 •

In [Uzziah’s] fiftieth year as king of Judah, Menahem’s son Pekahiah began to rule. Pekahiah was king of Israel for two years. He did what Yahweh considered evil. . . . His officer Pekah, son of Remaliah, plotted against him. With 50 men from Gilead, Pekah attacked Pekahiah . . . in the fortress of the royal palace in Samaria. Pekah killed him and succeeded him as king.

E
zri’s charming smile disappeared—as expected. “When you forfeited your wife, you lost a treasure greater than twin sisters.”

The sharp reply confirmed Hosea’s suspicions. The kind old merchant was a warrior.

Hosea released Yuval and squared his shoulders. “I’ve come to buy back my wife. When Yahweh, the one true God of Israel, called me to become his prophet years ago, His first command was that I make Gomer my wife. He has commanded me to reclaim her and show her my love.”

The room fell silent, battle lines drawn—Yuval at Hosea’s side, Gomer beside Ezri.

“I don’t know you or your god,” Ezri said, his chin beginning
to quake, “but I have loved Gomer well for four years. If not for the king’s tribute demands, I would never sell her to you or anyone else.”

Gomer’s face lost all color, but she remained silent, stoic. She stared blankly at a spot on the wall behind Hosea, her breathing as ragged as the hem of her robe. Was she upset about leaving this man—or returning home with Hosea?

“Perhaps your timing is divine,” Ezri continued. “She is my greatest treasure, Prophet. If you intend to buy her, you will pay dearly.”

The thought of haggling for his wife riled Hosea. “I bring twenty-three ounces of silver and ten bushels of barley—a slave’s wage.”

Ezri scoffed. “She would bring twice that at the slave market.”

At the mention of the slave market, Gomer began to tremble. “Hosea, please.” She closed her eyes, releasing streams of tears down her cheeks. “King Pekahiah has demanded tribute from all the merchants. Ezri needs—”

The old man shushed her, covering her hand with his on her thigh. “Quiet, now. I would never send you back to the market, but a merchant always bluffs.” He lifted her hand, kissed it, and returned his attention to Hosea. “I accept your offer, though she is worth more than any worldly wealth. You were a fool to let her go the first time. Don’t make the same mistake again. Now, where’s my silver and barley?”

Before Hosea could explain that Micah was waiting outside the gates with payment, distant screams erupted outside, arresting their attention. Hosea tried to speak over the commotion, to conclude their business before the merchant could change his mind. “My messenger is waiting for a red sash to be display—”

“Long live King Pekah!” Shouting interrupted Hosea’s negotiations, filtering up from the street through Ezri’s open balcony.

“Death to Pekahiah and his men!” Bloodcurdling screams followed the death call.

Ezri struggled to his feet and raced to the balcony. Hosea and the women followed closely behind. One glimpse over the railing revealed the bloody beginnings of a coup. Soldiers in full armor and on horseback were pouring in through the city gates, while startled palace guards in light leather breastplates rushed into the streets like lambs to the slaughter.

“By the gods, it was true!” Ezri shouted over the din while Gomer shielded Yuval’s eyes from the carnage below.

“Let’s get the women back into the house!” Hosea shouted, herding them inside. He looked for something with which he might block the door. Chaos bred looting, and it would begin soon. For the first time he noticed the utter starkness of the home—a single low table and a few cushions were the only furniture. Ezri had nothing left to steal.

“Gomer, get some wine.” Ezri barked the order, hands trembling. They returned to their pillows, and Gomer poured each of them a small glass of wine—watered considerably. Hosea gave his wife an approving glance. Ezri needed no further impediment if they hoped to escape Samaria alive today.

“When you saw the soldiers ride in through the gate,” Hosea said, trying to calm the badly shaken merchant, “you said, ‘It was true.’ What did you mean? Any news you’ve heard might aid our escape.”

Ezri didn’t answer right away, seemingly dazed. Gomer tried prying away his wine glass, but he grasped the cup like a lifeline, offering a weak grin. “Rumors began circulating almost a year ago that General Pekah was raising a rebellion in Gilead. Menahem’s son wasn’t a warrior like his abba and had been coddled his whole life. He’d let his advisors make most of his decisions.” The merchant met Hosea’s gaze. “And now it seems General Pekah has decided to become king.”

Yuval gasped and startled everyone. “What about Micah? Oh, Hosea, is he safe outside the city?” Tears matched her panic, and Gomer scooted closer to comfort her.

“I know a little bit about soldiers,” she whispered, “and my
guess is that Micah is safer outside the city than inside these walls.” She stared at the two men, lifting her brows to gain their support, while Yuval buried her head in Gomer’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Hosea? Ezri? Micah is safe, isn’t he?”

Hosea had already considered Micah and believed he was safer outside the gates—but Gomer’s compassion warmed him. “Absolutely. Micah is a bright young man and Yahweh’s prophet. The Lord will protect him—as He’ll protect us.” He held Gomer’s gaze as he said the words and felt Yahweh’s nudge. Not a voice, just a prod. It was time to press his claim with Ezri.

“Micah is my messenger, waiting for a signal to bring payment to whatever house displays this red sash from its balcony.” Hosea produced the linen. “He’ll deliver the agreed price. Yuval and I will leave Samaria with Gomer immediately.”

The women gasped, but the merchant laughed in utter disbelief. “You can’t seriously consider leaving while blood flows ankle-deep outside my door!” Ezri leveled his gaze at Hosea. “You realize I’m no longer in urgent need of funds. Pekah will spend many moon cycles cleaning up his political mess before he worries about enforcing tribute payments from his merchants. I no longer have to sell Gomer.”

“You no longer have to sell Gomer
now
,” Hosea amended. “There’s a difference, Ezri, and we both know it. You’re a merchant, and you’re trying to drive up the price. I understand. But I’m a prophet, and Yahweh’s offer stands firm.”

The old man expelled a deep breath. “I don’t want to let her go.”

Hosea squeezed his eyes shut. “I know how you feel.”

“So what do we do, Prophet?”

Hosea sighed, quieting himself.
Yahweh, I felt your nudge to press him for an answer. Now what?
A breeze stirred, and Hosea held his breath, expecting the acrid scent of battle rising from the street. Instead, he smelled the distinct aroma of cloves—and felt peace flow through him.

“A breeze in the heat of summer? Pekah must be blessed
by the gods.” Ezri started to rise, undoubtedly to peer over the balcony again.

Hosea laid a steadying hand on his arm. “Sit down, Ezri. That breeze you felt has nothing to do with your false gods. It was Yahweh’s presence.”

The old man grinned, glancing first at Gomer and then at Yuval. “I don’t believe in all that magical nonsense, Prophet.”

Gomer closed her eyes, her head falling forward. She knew, and Hosea’s heart took flight. The wind blew again, the scent of cloves stronger this time.

Ezri’s face lost all color, and Hosea chuckled inwardly. “Well, that ‘magical nonsense,’ as you call Him, has displayed Himself this time with a distinct scent. Can you tell me what you smell?”

“Cloves.” Ezri swallowed hard.

“Does the scent mean anything to you?” Hosea glanced at Gomer and saw her swallow something. This time he and Yuval both chuckled.

“Yes. Gomer always has cloves in her mouth—at least since I can no longer afford to buy her perfume.”

“So you understand that Yahweh wants to talk about Gomer?”

He nodded, but Gomer kept her head bowed.

“Are you willing to hear my full interpretation of Yahweh’s wind and the cloves?”

Another nod from Ezri. His vocabulary seemed severely depleted after Yahweh had arrived.

“Yahweh’s care extends to those He brings into our lives, and it seems He’s gone to great lengths to show you His mercy through Yuval’s reappearance in your life. I believe Yahweh is offering you salvation, my friend, no matter what your past decisions have been. If you embrace Him today, He will save you from Israel’s false gods
and
political woes.”

Ezri’s brow was deeply furrowed. “How could embracing a new god save me from the death and treachery of Pekah’s reign?”

“I believe Yahweh would have you return with us to Tekoa.”

Gomer’s head snapped to attention, eyes flashing. Was it anger? Confusion? Desperation? Hosea couldn’t tell, and Ezri didn’t notice.

“Why would you take me with you? I have nothing but the few pieces of silver you see on that table.” He pointed a trembling finger at the disheveled stacks.

“I invite you to a new life, to worship and serve Yahweh alone. Yuval’s husband Amos owns a successful farm, and I’m sure we can find a way for you to earn your keep.” Hosea glanced at Yuval, who nodded her approval. “And you’ll have my payment for Gomer,” he added, “because though I offer you Yahweh’s salvation, I do
not
offer my wife. She belongs to me as surely as Israel belongs to Yahweh.” Hosea extended his hand in pledge. “Are we agreed?”

Ezri hesitated. “Does Gomer get to choose? What if she doesn’t want to become your wife again?”

Hosea had been so focused on Ezri, he’d lost sight of his wife. He glimpsed her tears and knew he’d somehow hurt her—again.

Gomer felt like a trinket in the market, every fault and flaw exposed. But no. A trinket was treasured and displayed proudly. Gomer was a harlot, a slave, a
wife—
merely a woman to be bought and used and cast aside.

Angry tears burned her eyes and tightened her throat.
If Ezri had any courage, we could stay in Samaria—together.
But even as the thought formed, she knew it wouldn’t last. Within a few full moons, Ezri would likely be begging bread or dead, and she’d be left at the mercy of a new king’s soldiers. A shiver worked through her.
I can’t serve another master like Eitan.

“Gomer.” Hosea’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she found him watching her—his eyes penetrating her soul. “Yahweh told me to buy you back and to love you again.”

“No!” she shouted on a sob. “You have no right to say you love me. If you want to buy me—fine. Become my master. But don’t pretend you love me, Hosea.” Any control she had was lost in her final plea. “You owe me that. Don’t pretend to love me.”

He wiped both hands down his face, his eyes weepy and red when he looked at her again. “I’ve never pretended anything with you, Gomer. I’ve told you the truth from the beginning, and I’ll do the same now.” He paused, seeming to await her permission to continue. She nodded, and he sighed as if embarking on a long journey. “I intend to pay your master in order to buy you back—as Yahweh commanded. It is a command I obey willingly, gladly, because whether you believe it or not—I do love you. Yahweh has filled my heart with love for you.” He took another breath, staring at the ceiling, fighting emotion. “I want you to return to Tekoa with me, but you must come home with a new heart. You must never again worship or even mention the names of other gods, not in my presence or when I’m away.”

Her heart ached. “When you’re away.” It was the wedge that had split their hearts in two.

“I am Yahweh’s prophet, Gomer. I was called away, and you were called to wait for my return, but you refused to wait. You betrayed my love as Israel betrayed Yahweh.”

“I was called to wait?” she shouted. “I’m tired of waiting for Yahweh! He betrays
me
every time He takes away the people I love
.
He took away my ima and then you. He takes it all—everything I have!” The last words came out in sobs, spoken into her hands.

She felt Ezri’s arms around her, heard his gentle voice. “Life is all about waiting, little Gomer, and those we love are unavoidably taken away—some prematurely, others by age and death.” He grasped both her shoulders firmly, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Life is also about choices. I will not leave my home or the gods I’ve known since I was a child. You may stay with me if you like, but your hus—Hosea is right.
Within a few months, I will need to sell you to pay tribute to Pekah. You’re the only treasure I own, my love. ”

Gomer stared at a stranger. Ezri had cleaned her wounds, reawakened her humanity, and vowed his love. But she was still his slave. Love meant nothing. She turned to Hosea.

And he was there, kneeling before her. His eyes deep pools of . . .

“Please, Gomer. It’s time to make your choice. Will you return to Tekoa as my wife?”

He cupped her cheek, and the warmth of his touch weakened her defenses. She couldn’t think. The anticipation on the three faces overwhelmed her.

“No,” she said, hearing a collective gasp. “I will return as your slave,
Master
Hosea.”

Hosea dropped his hand and his head. When he spoke, she heard a mixture of mischief and resolve. “Then we will wait for each other, you and I.” He looked up then, meeting her gaze again. “You won’t offer yourself to any other man, and I will wait to offer myself to you until Yahweh has won your allegiance.” Smiling, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.