The Journey Begun (7 page)

A smile curved the corners of Jeroboam’s mouth. “Honesty, Elihu.”

Elihu winced inwardly at the familiar address.

The king continued. “I appointed you Commander of Troops because I trust you. Your counsel is of value. What of Zechariah?”

“Forgive me, my lord, but I must claim limited competence in appraising the king’s son.” Elihu was desperate for a way out of this conversation.

“I am not asking for an appraisal of a son. I am asking for an appraisal of a soldier. In that, you are eminently competent.” Jeroboam waited.

Elihu exhaled slowly. “Zechariah—your son—holds his own in the ranks, my lord. However, what you say is true. The finer points of soldiering sometimes elude his intuition.” He hurried to qualify his comment. “But, my lord, some of the finest leaders in Israel’s history did not come by the craft easily.”

The king raised an eyebrow. “For example?”

“Well, my lord, Gideon, comes to mind. His victory over the Midianites is legendary, yet, by all accounts, innate military prowess was quite lacking in him.”

The king eased back in his chariot. “Point taken. Still, it does not sit well with me. Israel is resurgent and if we are to keep the lands we have regained, a strong army will be essential.” He glanced over at his commander. “And that means a strong king.”

“Zechariah will be strong, my lord. I’m convinced of it.”

Jeroboam’s brow creased. “I hope you are right.”

“I am, my lord. He’ll mature. You’ll see.”

The king drew in a deep breath. “Enough of this for now. Have Zebulun see to the encampment. Then choose your sister’s gift and be off.” His face softened and the smile returned. “Enjoy your rest. You have earned it. Travel safely. We will meet again in Samaria.”

Elihu bowed his thanks before reining his steed around and trotting back to the command staff. He puffed his cheeks and whistled a sigh of relief.

Lll

Nineveh
. At first, the word was lost in the overpowering ambiance of the heavenly messenger sent to proclaim this new task to
Adonai’s
prophet. As the angel’s aura faded, Jonah recited the simple message in his mind.
“Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and call out against it, for their evil has come up before me.”

Nineveh…Assyria?
His face clouded as his mind tripped over the foul name.
Nineveh?
The principal city of Israel’s archenemy? Surely he had misheard.

No, he had not misheard.
Assyria…ASSYRIA? Nineveh? Go to NINEVEH?
Images of scarlet shields, crashing chariots, and rotting carnage flashed through his mind. The slopes of the Jezreel Valley littered with death from a battle many years past refocused in his head. Jonah’s knuckles rapped a quickening rhythm on the surface of the table.
Nineveh?
How could this be?

“You can say ‘no.’”

The alien thought wafted up from the recesses of his mind, borne on the strands of a silky ethereal voice.

Jonah’s head jerked as the notion pierced the rising turmoil in his head.

“You do not have to go.”

He grimaced as the voice grew stronger. It gripped his brain in a web of doubt that tightened and squeezed his head.

Not go?
How could he not go? How do you refuse? The divine mandate was direct, unambiguous. He couldn’t claim to have misunderstood. Indeed, he understood all too well. It was that understanding that
[B8]
 
condemned it. If
Adonai
sent a message to repent, there was a chance the people would repent.
Repent?
This was Assyria! How could
Adonai
have any message for Assyria other than obliteration? Why would they even listen? Jonah paused as this question pushed another thought to the front of his mind. Of course! That was it! Assyria
wouldn’t
listen. They would
never
comply. This was surely a message of condemnation and Jonah was to be the messenger! What could be better? What could be…better? Surely they won’t repent…they wouldn’t…couldn’t.

“But…what if they do?”

The doubt tightened its grip until he grimaced with pain.
They won’t! Besides, I have to go. I have to…

Still, he couldn’t ignore the niggling uncertainty. Despite efforts to suppress them, nagging thoughts of denial penetrated him to the core. The need to obey and the urge to resist vied for dominance like two of his rams contesting the same territory. He felt helpless to do anything but watch the battle, until one of the rams backed off and turned to meet his mind’s eye. He jolted as the animal’s form melted into that of a fallen Israelite soldier lying in a pool along the banks of the Kishon River.

“No!”
He choked the forbidden word. The final rap of his knuckles split the skin. “If I ever set foot on Assyrian soil may my legs shrivel and die!” He shoved away from the table, slamming his back against the wall.
Nineveh! Never!
He slid to the floor and clenched his knees to his chest, struggling for a full breath to clear his mind. His right hand slipped under his shirt and clutched the gold disc. The hard metal forced a tear from the corner of his eye.

Jonah sat rigid, his mind at war with his heart. He fought with the angel:
“You’re to preach in Assyria.” I spit on Assyria!

He fought with his father:
“Learn the Scriptures.” Where is this written in the Scriptures?

He fought with his mother:
“We all have sins for which to repent.” There are sins which cannot be forgiven!

He fought with himself:
“Adonai will have mercy where He will have mercy.” There are those who are just evil and deserve to die!

Jonah heaved himself to his feet and stalked to the window. He glared at the darkening hillside. This
is Israel! This soil and these rocks are
ha eretz.
They alone are
Adonai’s.
Israel alone is His, not Assyria—
never
Assyria!
Jonah gripped the window sill.
You have no business with the Assyrians, unless it’s to exterminate them! I will not go!
His revulsion to the thought of disobeying disappeared into the dark corners of his mind.
I will not preach repentance! Salvation is not for them to have!

He smacked the window frame and swung around to see Ehud filling the doorway, a torch in his hand, a puzzled look on his face. “Jonah, what is it? What are you doing?”

Jonah glared at the floor. Shadows from the flickering torchlight cavorted with the lesser shades from the oil lamp like impish demons frolicking in and out of cracks and knotholes in the wall. The rebellious prophet’s dark outline shimmered with them.

“Jonah?”

“Nothing!”

“Nothing? Don’t give me that. I could hear your pounding around all the way down by the house.” Ehud propped his arm against the doorframe and waited.

Jonah pressed his fists to his eyes and rubbed, but didn’t answer.

Ehud saw the split skin on his brother’s knuckles in the dim torchlight. He walked over and grabbed Jonah’s wrist to survey the damage.

Jonah jerked his arm free. “Don’t!” Pushing past his brother, he whipped his apron off the table.

“What’s gotten into you?” Ehud’s eyes narrowed at the window cover ripped from the wall, now lying in a pile on the floor.

“I told you. Nothing.” Jonah grabbed the pouch containing his skinning knife and sharpening stone from their peg. Shaking, he fumbled with the flap, wrestling with the thong binding.

His brother whirled on him. “That’s right! You’ve told me nothing! You’re in here tearing the place apart, and you tell me nothing. Even Mother could hear you. If you think of no one else, think of her. The last thing she needs is to be upset.”

“Don’t tell me what Mother needs! I know what she needs!” Helplessness and confusion strained Jonah’s voice. “I’ve been taking care of her too, haven’t I?”

“That’s nothing, compared to how she’s taken care of you!”

Jonah slammed the pouch onto the table and spun around. “What do
you
know?” He pointed a finger at Ehud’s face. “What do
you
know about
anything?”

“Oh, now,
that
makes a lot of sense.” Ehud pushed the finger aside. “Jonah, you used to be the most level-headed person I know, but these past few years, ever since that delivery to Megiddo became a jaunt to Samaria—which you still won’t talk about—you’ve been…different.” His tone softened. “Jonah, I’m your brother. When are you going to let me in on this?”

Jonah turned away. “It wasn’t a ‘jaunt.’”

“Right. Hadassah told us you were following a business lead, but nothing ever came of it. What are we supposed to think?”

“Grandfather?” Ehud jerked his head around to see Joshua’s head peering around the door, searching Ehud’s and Jonah’s taut faces.

“What is it?”

The boy flinched at Ehud’s sharp tone. “Mother needs you. She’s at the house.”

“What’s wrong? Can’t it wait?”

“I think it’s Grandmother Deborah.”

 
Jonah’s eyes shot up and he rushed for the doorway. Ehud was already over the threshold, ushering his son out. The three of them hurried down the slope to the house and jammed through the door.

Miriam knelt by her grandmother, a nervous hand on her shoulder. “She’s trying to sit up. I told her to stay still, but she won’t listen.”

Deborah gasped, trying to speak. Since her stroke, she could only manage a few halting words at a time. Although she slurred, Jonah learned to read her like a new mother learns to read her infant’s expressions. She showed improvement as her brain fought the effects of the seizure, but her muscles still resisted control. What did recover from the stroke was the intensity of her eyes. They made clear what her tongue could not.

Miriam rose as Jonah knelt next to his mother, taking her hand in his. “Mother, you need to lie still.”

She leveled her gaze at him. “Lyin’...shtill...tuh...lung...” Deborah sank back, grimacing.

“I know it seems too long for you, Mother. You are getting better, though, I can see it. We all can. You need to be patient.” Jonah brushed a wisp of hair from her damp forehead.

She rolled her head to face him. “Noish. Wuht...hap’n?”

Jonah averted her look. “Nothing happened, Mother. I was just banging around in the tanning shed. Some things fell over.”

Ehud folded his arms, but said nothing.

Deborah narrowed her brow. “Truph.”

“That is the truth, Mother. I just...” He trailed off to a cough.