depending on her. Miriam had once nursed her brothers through a terrible fever. She knew what to do.
“Nathan, draw another basin of water from the cistern,” she ordered. “Mattan, bring me every clean rag you can find.” The man moaned as she gently eased him down, resting his head in her lap. “Now, both of you go gather some eucalyptus branches. We need to burn them to freshen the air.”
“But it’s the Sabbath,” Nathan said. “We’ll get in trouble if we’re caught gathering wood on the Sabbath.”
“Then don’t get caught.” Her brother enjoyed the thrill of danger. Miriam knew he would get the wood.
After they left, Miriam spent the next hour patiently bathing Master Joshua’s face and arms and chest with cold water from the cistern. He slept fitfully, and his coughing came from deep in his chest. As she worked, she learned every feature of his aristocratic face by heart: his wide, high forehead; his thick, gently arched brows; his full lower lip; his curly, black beard. When he briefly opened his eyes, she saw that they were so dark she could barely tell where the black centers began and ended.
She had never been so close to a man before, except for Abba. The men Mama brought home were usually drunk, and Miriam stayed away from them, especially after one of them had tried to paw her. She studied Master Joshua’s hands as she bathed them, admiring his long, perfect fingers and immaculate nails. They were smooth rich-man hands, not chapped and rough like her own. She knew from the lavishly embroidered robe and fine linen tunic hanging on the rope above the hearth that he was telling the truth when he said his family had money. What would it be like to be a rich man’s wife?
Before long the boys returned with eucalyptus branches bundled inside their cloaks. They threw them on the fire, filling the room with a pungent aroma, cleansing the air in the stuffy shack. After Miriam had bathed Joshua’s body in cool water for a long time, his fever seemed much better, his breathing easier. She finally moved his head off her lap and rose to tend the fire and stir the barley broth. His eyes blinked open.
“Yael?” he whispered. “Don’t go, Yael.”
Had he forgotten that her name was Miriam? Or was he calling someone else—maybe his wife? She felt a stab of jealousy that she couldn’t explain or understand. She knelt beside him again and tenderly caressed his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
Miriam hurried outside for a few more sticks of firewood, not wanting to be away from him for too long. Suddenly she thought of her mother’s many boyfriends. Miriam had never understood what drew Mama to them or why she would leave her children alone for weeks at a time to go away with them. But now Miriam felt an inexplicable attraction to this man and wondered how she could convince Master Joshua to take her away with him when he left.
She went back inside and tended the fire, stirring the broth so it wouldn’t burn. Then she knelt beside him again and lifted his bound hands in hers. He opened his eyes.
“Yael?”
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m right here.”
6
W HEN ELIAKIM HEARD the king’s soldiers descending the stairs, fear gripped him. Heart-pounding fear. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t catch his breath. His limbs trembled like a man with palsy, and he had to lean against the wall in order to stand. He helped Isaiah to his feet, and they huddled together, blinking in the blinding torchlight.
The soldiers unlocked the door and herded them out of the cell. Eliakim’s knees could scarcely hold him, making it difficult to climb the steep, uneven stairs.
He emerged from the lower darkness to palace hallways awash in golden sunlight. The dazzling brightness made his eyes water after nearly two days of total blindness. Eliakim could have walked sightlessly through these familiar corridors without the soldiers leading him. They took him as far as the throne room doors and
“Nathan, draw another basin of water from the cistern,” she ordered. “Mattan, bring me every clean rag you can find.” The man moaned as she gently eased him down, resting his head in her lap. “Now, both of you go gather some eucalyptus branches. We need to burn them to freshen the air.”
“But it’s the Sabbath,” Nathan said. “We’ll get in trouble if we’re caught gathering wood on the Sabbath.”
“Then don’t get caught.” Her brother enjoyed the thrill of danger. Miriam knew he would get the wood.
After they left, Miriam spent the next hour patiently bathing Master Joshua’s face and arms and chest with cold water from the cistern. He slept fitfully, and his coughing came from deep in his chest. As she worked, she learned every feature of his aristocratic face by heart: his wide, high forehead; his thick, gently arched brows; his full lower lip; his curly, black beard. When he briefly opened his eyes, she saw that they were so dark she could barely tell where the black centers began and ended.
She had never been so close to a man before, except for Abba. The men Mama brought home were usually drunk, and Miriam stayed away from them, especially after one of them had tried to paw her. She studied Master Joshua’s hands as she bathed them, admiring his long, perfect fingers and immaculate nails. They were smooth rich-man hands, not chapped and rough like her own. She knew from the lavishly embroidered robe and fine linen tunic hanging on the rope above the hearth that he was telling the truth when he said his family had money. What would it be like to be a rich man’s wife?
Before long the boys returned with eucalyptus branches bundled inside their cloaks. They threw them on the fire, filling the room with a pungent aroma, cleansing the air in the stuffy shack. After Miriam had bathed Joshua’s body in cool water for a long time, his fever seemed much better, his breathing easier. She finally moved his head off her lap and rose to tend the fire and stir the barley broth. His eyes blinked open.
“Yael?” he whispered. “Don’t go, Yael.”
Had he forgotten that her name was Miriam? Or was he calling someone else—maybe his wife? She felt a stab of jealousy that she couldn’t explain or understand. She knelt beside him again and tenderly caressed his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
Miriam hurried outside for a few more sticks of firewood, not wanting to be away from him for too long. Suddenly she thought of her mother’s many boyfriends. Miriam had never understood what drew Mama to them or why she would leave her children alone for weeks at a time to go away with them. But now Miriam felt an inexplicable attraction to this man and wondered how she could convince Master Joshua to take her away with him when he left.
She went back inside and tended the fire, stirring the broth so it wouldn’t burn. Then she knelt beside him again and lifted his bound hands in hers. He opened his eyes.
“Yael?”
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m right here.”
6
W HEN ELIAKIM HEARD the king’s soldiers descending the stairs, fear gripped him. Heart-pounding fear. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t catch his breath. His limbs trembled like a man with palsy, and he had to lean against the wall in order to stand. He helped Isaiah to his feet, and they huddled together, blinking in the blinding torchlight.
The soldiers unlocked the door and herded them out of the cell. Eliakim’s knees could scarcely hold him, making it difficult to climb the steep, uneven stairs.
He emerged from the lower darkness to palace hallways awash in golden sunlight. The dazzling brightness made his eyes water after nearly two days of total blindness. Eliakim could have walked sightlessly through these familiar corridors without the soldiers leading him. They took him as far as the throne room doors and
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