The Ironsmith (33 page)

“Now, will you do something for me? Come with me to my father's house.”

It was not a thing that required explanation.

“Of course.”

Noah glanced at Deborah, offering an unspoken apology.

“She will be safe enough with me,” his grandfather announced. “I will entertain her with prodigious lies about your childhood.”

Since there were still a few hours of daylight left, Noah and Joshua went to the workshop, where they could expect to find the men of the family. They were not disappointed. Both brothers were there. Joseph, who could no longer work, occupied a stool in the middle of the room, where he could sip water from a jug resting on the floor and watch his sons with envious eyes.

He was the first to see Joshua, and was so taken by surprise that he actually stood up. Joshua immediately strode over and embraced his father.

“So. You are here. Well. Good.”

These were all the words Joseph could bring himself to utter, but they were enough. The two men stood with their hands on each other's shoulders, and all they could not say was reflected in their faces.

“Noah.” Joseph's voice, when at last he did speak, was choked with emotion. “I have you to thank for this.”

At last, when his father had released him, Joshua went to his brothers, each in turn, and embraced them. Jacob seemed glad to see him. To Little Joseph he might have been a stranger.

“Are you home to stay?” Little Joseph asked him. His tone suggested that he already knew the answer. But Joshua was wise enough to act as if he hadn't heard.

He stayed for perhaps a quarter of an hour, sitting beside his father and speaking to him in a low voice. Noah could not hear the words, but it was clear from the expression of something like gratitude on Joseph's face that Joshua was keeping the peace.

At last Joshua stood up.

“I should see my mother now,” he said, and went through a door into the house.

Joseph looked up at Noah and shook his head.

“He is much more his mother's son than mine,” he said, as if resigned. “We will not see him again before supper.”

Noah, his duty done, went back to his grandfather's house, where he found Deborah and the old man sitting together beside the doorway, deep in conversation. His grandfather, he noticed, was holding his future wife's hand.

He was so pleased with the picture they made that he was almost disappointed when they noticed his presence.

“Ah, you are back,” his grandfather announced. “How was it?”

Noah shrugged. “A good beginning. For the rest, we'll see.”

“You don't sound hopeful.”

“Grandfather, some collisions are inevitable.”

Benjamin nodded sadly. Then he released his hold on Deborah's hand, but not without giving it a final pat.

A few minutes later Gemariah, Jacob's wife, turned up with an invitation to dinner.

“Miriam sent me,” she said, addressing herself mainly to Deborah. “She wants the whole family to be together. And we all want to meet Noah's intended.”

“Can I help?” Deborah asked. “Another pair of hands…”

Gemariah, who was a plain, good-natured country woman, seemed both pleased and embarrassed by this and didn't know how to reply.

“Please?” Deborah smiled prettily and the matter was settled. They bade the men farewell and went off together.

When they were out of earshot, Grandfather shook his head and laughed.

“As you see, she conquers us all,” he said.

*   *   *

As the sun began to descend below the hills, they all sat down to eat. As was customary on such occasions, tables were set up outside. Miriam, marshaling her daughters and daughters-in-law with a precision a Roman general might have envied, managed to arrange things so that nothing disturbed the felicity of her son's homecoming. Joshua sat with his father, his brother Jacob, Uncle Benjamin, and several children. Little Joseph sat with Noah and Joshua's disciples. When the meal was served and the women could take their places, it was apparent that Deborah had already established herself as a great favorite.

About an hour later, Sarah appeared out of the darkness. Noah rose and embraced his sister.

“You shouldn't have come all this way in the dark,” he said sternly, trying to conceal his pleasure.

“It was perfectly light until a few minutes ago.” She laughed. “Besides, I wanted to meet my new sister.”

“Did you come alone? Where is Judah?”

“He told me you were here, and then he left. Didn't he come back?”

“No.”

“Then I expect he is still in Sepphoris.”

“So it would seem.”

 

27

The next morning, nothing would do except for Noah, Sarah, and Deborah to walk to Sepphoris. The danger was past, so Noah assured them, and Sarah announced to her brother that his betrothed would certainly be eager to see her new home. Sarah was insistent.

A single evening had been enough to make the two women friends. Noah had watched their developing intimacy with pleasure, but without surprise. They were almost the same age, both sweet tempered, and neither had a sister. Certain affinities were inevitable.

During the hour from Nazareth to the eastern gate, Sarah carried most of the burden of conversation. She described all the rooms of the house: which had the best light at what times of day, the strengths and deficiencies of the kitchen, the problems of storage. Deborah added a word or two about the furniture she was bringing from Capernaum and was content to listen to everything Sarah had to say concerning the probable best placement of each piece. Noah, for the most part, kept silent, occasionally shaking his head in amazement. He would never have imagined that domestic order was so complicated.

It also occurred to him that Sarah was uncharacteristically excited, almost hectic, and he was pleased to observe the placid kindness of Deborah's responses. She seemed to understand whatever was afflicting his sister.

Probably, Noah thought to himself, it all had something to do with the cloth merchant.

Abijah and Noah had known each other for a little over two years. There was a circle of men in that quarter of the city who met at irregular intervals in one another's homes to discuss Torah with perhaps more freedom and greater intensity than was quite appropriate to the prayer house. Abijah lived only two streets from Noah, and they had formed the habit of walking to and from these meetings together. Their conversations along the way were frequently more interesting than the meetings themselves. Eventually, and without the hint of an ulterior motive, Noah had invited Abijah to dinner, and that was when he met Sarah.

Abijah was a few years lacking of thirty. At nineteen, while still living with his parents in Caesarea and apprenticed to his father in the cloth trade, he had been engaged to marry a young girl, the daughter of his mother's cousin. For some reason—which, apparently, he felt bound in honor not to explain—the engagement had been broken off, and Abijah had moved to Sepphoris and set up in business on his own. He worked hard and achieved success, and apparently had given no thought to women until he set eyes on Sarah.

That was a year ago, and ever since, he had been her ardent suitor. He was handsome, prosperous, learned, and agreeable. He could have secured the favor of any girl in their stratum of local society, but only Sarah would do. It was Sarah, plain, awkward Sarah, who had presented the obstacles. She loved Abijah—that was apparent. She valued his many good qualities and was grateful, as only an unmarried woman of twenty-six can be grateful, for his love, his ardor, and his persistence. But she would not leave her brother.

Then, providentially, her brother had fallen in love with a widow in Capernaum. Was it any wonder that Sarah was eager to discuss housekeeping arrangements with her new sister-in-law to be?

When they entered the city gates, Deborah was as one struck dumb. Sepphoris seemed a place beyond belief. All she could do was look about her and stare.

At the house, after Noah had unlocked the door, Sarah and Deborah passed quickly through the shop and into the living quarters. They simply vanished, and Noah was left behind to count the stock.

Half an hour later, Abijah turned up. They embraced, as if they were brothers already, and Noah offered him a cup of wine.

“I hear you are soon to be married,” Abijah said abruptly.

“Yes.” Noah could only laugh. “Sarah and my betrothed are inside now, deciding on all the details of my future life.”

“And on the strength of your engagement, Sarah has finally consented.”

Abijah did not laugh, but he smiled broadly. They were sitting at a small, circular table in the shop, and Abijah was stroking his beard with the back of his left hand, the way he did when he felt he had offered an unarguable interpretation of Torah.

“Are you, too, prepared to consent?” Abijah asked.

“When has my consent ever been in doubt?” Not without difficulty, Noah preserved a becoming gravity of manner. “
I
was never the obstacle. I would sooner have Sarah married to you, my friend, than to any man living. Does that put your mind at ease?”

“She is a wonderfully loyal sister,” Abijah declared with admiration.

“And she will make you a wonderfully loyal wife.” Noah took a sip of wine and set the cup down with a certain emphasis. “Now. Shall we discuss terms?”

“I do not care anything about terms.”

“Yes, but I do. I will not shame my sister by sending her to her husband like a beggar. She shall have a suitable dowry—furniture, clothes, kitchen utensils, and money.”

“Then, because I know you to be a just and pious man, I leave the details to you.”

“You honor me, brother.”

Noah refilled their wineglasses, and the conversation drifted first into predictions of their future happiness and then, gradually, into a discussion of the fine points of the Mosaic law concerning marriage.

After perhaps an hour, they were interrupted by a knock at the shop door.

Noah rose to answer it and was surprised to discover that his caller was the same man who had visited him once before, the First Minister's nephew.

The elegant young priest stepped inside—tentatively, a step at a time, holding his robes close around him as if fearful of contagion—and Noah closed the door. When the priest saw Abijah he frowned.

“You may speak freely,” Noah said, perhaps more harshly than he was aware. “This man is a member of my family.”

The First Minister's nephew turned around to face him. He did not seem impressed by Noah's assurance.

“A certain distinguished person—”

“Your uncle.”

“Wishes to speak to you, in a place you know—”

“The house of Kenan bar Dathan, on the Street of the Doves, near the palace gate.”

For a moment the young priest seemed to consider if he should become angry, but apparently decided against it.

“And wonders if tomorrow morning would be convenient. The first hour after prayers.”

“Tell the Lord Eleazar that I am at his disposal. Now, was there anything else? Perhaps you will join us in a cup of wine? We are celebrating an engagement.”

“I think you upset him,” Abijah observed, once the priest had made his somewhat hasty departure.

“How? Was I rude?”

“Yes.”

“Let us hope so.” Noah sat down again and poured them both another cup of wine. “I would hate to think he has taken a liking to me.”

“Is he really the Lord Eleazar's nephew?”

“Yes.”

“Then perhaps you should be more careful not to offend him.”

“His uncle knows he is a puppy. Besides, the Lord Eleazar is a great admirer of my dental pliers.”

*   *   *

Eventually, Deborah and Sarah finished their tour of the house. Noah performed the little ceremony of introducing Deborah to Abijah, which Sarah watched, holding one hand tightly clenched in the other as if afraid it might escape. Then Sarah announced that they were going to the marketplace, which was three streets away.

“Would you like an escort?” Abijah asked, addressing the question to Sarah. “I can carry your purchases for you.”

“We are only going to look, not to buy,” Sarah answered, seeming somehow relieved. “However, if you would enjoy a tour of the stalls, you are welcome.”

Noah smiled, a little sadly.

“I might as well come with you. You will need to buy enough for dinner, since we will be spending the night here. It seems that I have an appointment in the morning.”

“Then we shall have a feast!” In pure exuberance, Sarah actually clapped her hands. “The four of us have so much to celebrate.”

On the way there, the lovers paired off, but as they reached the marketplace, which completely filled one of the large public squares, the feminine alliance reasserted itself and Sarah led Deborah off through the rows of stalls, so close together that their awnings almost touched above the walkways. Noah and Abijah could follow, if they liked, but their presence was rarely acknowledged, and then only with a backward glance and a smile.

“I had no idea you moved in such distinguished circles,” Abijah said at last. He phrased it as a jest, as something which could be easily turned aside, but his curiosity about the Lord Eleazar was obvious.

“He sends his nephew because he cannot trust his own servants, which is also why we will meet tomorrow in someone else's house. We are not bound together by friendship but by the fact that we have a common enemy, whom we both fear.”

“Who in all of Galilee does the Lord Eleazar need to fear?”

Noah put his hand on Abijah's arm, only to capture his attention. He wanted his new brother-in-law to see his face, to read its expression.

“It is better for you that you do not know. I say this not because I do not trust you, but because you will be Sarah's husband.”