Keepers of the Covenant by Lynn Austin

few years ago: “We’re all called to serve God.” Reuben hadn’t understood what he’d meant back then, thinking he had to study all day or become a rabbi to serve God. Now, as Reuben crouched beside the furnace, feeling the fire’s intense heat and watching Abba rotate the glowing metal, he finally understood. God called him and his father to serve Godas blacksmiths. The Almighty One chose them for this work, so their people could survive.
    Reuben’s apprenticeship had accelerated from all his labor, transforming his skills. Along with added knowledge and experience, his love and respect for his father also increased. Weapons now filled stacks of crates behind the partition—swords and knives, spears and arrowheads. Abba would ship most of them to Rebbe Ezra in Babylon, hidden inside wagonloads of produce. Every able-bodied man in Casiphia was now armed, too.
    “Take a break, Reuben.” Abba pulled the blade from the flames and turned to hammer it on the anvil. “Get a drink and cool off.” Reuben could tell by the ringing sound and the thickness of the metal that the sword was nearly finished. He laid down his bellows and removed his leather apron, hanging it on the hook behind the partition before bending to ladle a drink from one of the clay jars. With his thirst quenched, he retrieved the arrow and bow he had begged from one of Abba’s craftsmen and carried them to the narrow lane behind the forge where the straw target was set up. Reuben could hit it every time, so he stepped back from where he’d practiced yesterday, increasing his range. He felt the growing strength in his arms as he strung the bow and drew back the string, certain that God had created him to use these weapons as well as fashion them. Thwack. The wild thrill he felt each time his muscles strained to draw the bow, each time his arrow struck its mark, satisfied him more than his daring escapades with his friends.
    “You’ve become quite a good shot, Reuben.”
    He turned to see Uncle Hashabiah and another elder from the house of assembly standing in the alleyway behind him. “Thank you.” He grinned and hurried forward to pull the arrow from the target, hoping they would stay for a moment and watch him shoot again. They were in charge of training the men in his community.
    “Is your father here? We’ve come to see if he has more weapons for us.”
    Reuben waited to reply until after he’d taken aim and the arrow had penetrated the center of the target . “Yes, we’ve finished a few more swords,” he said. “I’m practicing so I can join you when training begins.” The two men looked at each other without replying. “I heard that practice starts soon,” Reuben continued. “I want to fight with you.”
    “You’re only twelve, Reuben.”
    “I’ll be thirteen in a few months. And I can already shoot. You just saw me. I can use a sword, too.”
    “Is your father inside?” Hashabiah asked again. He went into the forge without waiting for Reuben’s reply. Reuben followed them, still carrying his bow and arrow, and they found Abba at the grinding stone, sharpening a new blade.
    “Are the weapons ready?” Hashabiah asked.
    “Yes, Reuben and I finished a few more since you were here. And the shipment to Babylon leaves tomorrow.”
    “Good. Will you have time to come for training tonight? I know you’re busy with all of this,” he said, gesturing to the forge.
    Abba tested the edge of the sword with his thumb, then bent to sharpen it some more. “Yes, I plan to come.”
    “I want to come, too,” Reuben said.
    Hashabiah shook his head. “You’re too young, son. The elders have decided that volunteers must be at least sixteen.”
    “But that’s not fair! I’ve worked as hard as any man making these weapons. Why can’t I use them, too?” He struggled to keep his voice level and not whine like a child, but the injustice angered him.
    “I know, Reuben, but—”
    “Don’t our enemies outnumber us?” Reuben asked.