9

After the Sabbath, Adah devoted herself to laying the foundation for her family’s section of the wall. Priests labored near the Valley Gate, so her father’s area would need to abut their build. She tugged on the bridle of Telem’s donkey, her arm muscles tensing as she coaxed the animal forward and up an embankment. The large rock harnessed to the donkey would add width to the base of the wall. Othniel dislodged the stone for momentum so the animal would not balk at the weight as it pulled the stone up the slow rise of the valley.

A faint ache pulsed through her healing blisters as she guided the donkey closer to the stone cutters.

Telem halted his shaping of the stone and stood, arching his back with his blade overhead for balance. “Where did you go to get that boulder? The palace in Susa?”

“I do not want the donkey to go lame.” She patted the animal’s neck. Damp hair clung to the bandage on her blistered hand. “He needs a rest soon.”

“The donkey or the boy?” Telem chuckled and aimed his blade toward Othniel.

Othniel gave the large stone a shove. “If the animal goes down, we will carry these loads with our backs.” He wiped his brow and cast a glance at their task master. “I am accustomed to clearing fields of rocks. You only lived in one.”

“Hurry then, teacher.” Telem grinned while hammering a newly placed stone. With each strike hair escaped from its band. “We need to cut another rock.”

Othniel jogged alongside the boulder as it slid on smoothed ground. “Did someone not feed our mason this morning? He is snapping more than a turtle.”

Adah placed a finger to her lips. “Judith keeps his stomach full. He must be getting hungry.”

She neared the work area that had doubled in size since Telem’s arrival. In the center of the cleared ground, ended by the collapsed wall and a row of dwellings inhabited by the relatives of priests, stood a pot cooking over a flame. The air smelled like pine sap, but Telem assured her that she was mistaken about his mixture. A mortar barrel set beside a row of water jugs. Crushed limestone speckled the dirt.

Her arms trembled from battling the donkey’s stubbornness. A fresh spot of blood stained the cloth protecting her palm, but she would not complain. A swell of gratitude pounded through her chest. How could she thank God for providing a mason and laborers to assist her family?

Not only did Telem return to his birthplace, but he brought two brothers with him, Jehu and Jehuliel. These brothers, returning from Sidon, had joined Telem on his trip from the hills. While Jehu and Jehuliel cut stone, Telem fastened the bricks together with the tiniest of seams. Her father carried buckets of sand instead of passing judgment in the courts. And now, younger men lifted rock instead of an old man and his daughters. The clanks and scrapes of chisels, mallets, and blades created a rhythm more melodious than a finely plucked harp.

As far as she could see, her people labored to restore dignity and protection to their city. Dust clouds rose from where stones were shaped. Smoke escaped from beneath boiling pots. Jerusalem would once again be the sparkling jewel of Judah. What a proud governor they would have in Nehemiah.

Othniel stroked the donkey’s muzzle, pleasing the animal. “Your sister and mother are coming with food for the beast.”

His teasing broke her trance. “The donkey or Telem?”

“Shalom.” Adah waved. Her mother approached carrying a large basket while Judith balanced a jug on her shoulder and took hold of their mother’s arm.

Turning his back toward the workers, Othniel leaned in as if to check the donkey’s bit. “Did your mother reveal what happened to Telem’s wife? For it appears he may seek another.” He nodded in Judith’s direction.

“Woe to the thought.” She admired Judith’s scarlet veil and braided belt. If the ensemble caught Adah’s attention, a man’s eye would surely be drawn to her form. “My mother said it wasn’t her place to speak of Telem’s past. The truth should come from him.”

The reclusive and stiff-necked mason practically leapt from his station on the wall as her sister grew near. Telem tossed his mallet to the ground without seeming to care where it landed.

Othniel patted the donkey’s shoulder. “Will you share the truth with me when it is revealed?”

“What don’t I share with you?” Othniel had been at her side listening to her babble as they accompanied her mother all over the outskirts of the city seeking plants for fragrant oils. He knew the valleys and streams and, during the last year when her mother stayed indoors, they had traveled the terrain alone.

“Good. Then we agree.” He grinned as if he already harbored the secret. “Now I am going to see what is in that basket your mother is carrying.”

“Save a bite for me. I will see to our beast.” Adah led the donkey to a small trough for a drink. She smiled as the animal submerged its nose and snorted.

If anyone deserved to hear the truth about Telem, it should be her friend. Othniel had escorted her and Judith into the dark catacombs and risked his life returning them to the city. Thinking about her closeness to Othniel’s muscular body as they trudged through the shadows heated her cheeks faster than a hot bath. She shook the vision from her mind. Stop it. You have a wall to build.

Adah hung back as the laborers washed their hands and claimed bread, dates, and raisin cakes from her mother’s noonday offering. Judith poured cups of water to refresh the men. Her sister stood beside the crumbling corner of a house abandoned since the Babylonian siege. Would the owners ever return?

Seeing the progress all around the city gave Adah a sense of pride in her people and in her mission. Like small ants carrying a large crumb, her people heeded Nehemiah’s call.

She scaled an expanse of wall above the cornerstone resembling a staircase to the sky. With her family distracted, she climbed onto the rock that had caused Telem and Jehu to grunt like hogs as they set it into place. She tapped the surface three times with her sandal before scaling the stone. The mortar did not bulge. Rising to the heights of two-storied dwellings, she stationed her feet on the stone she and Othniel had pulled up the ravine. She tapped her foot again, confident this section of the wall would rival any other. Perched high above the city, she scanned the uneven rooftops, the scarred walls from one too many siege, and her people rushing through chores.

Othniel came and sat at the base of her tower. He nibbled on the sweet bits of fruit in his cake. When was the last time he had enjoyed such a delicacy?

Holding a plump date between his fingers, Othniel smacked his lips together. “You should snatch a morsel before Telem devours the woven reeds of the basket.”

“Where is your faith in my sister’s resourcefulness?” She leaned forward and watched Othniel savor his date. “Judith will save me a cake lest I insist she carry stones.”

Shading her face, Adah surveyed the hills where they had found Telem. When the wall was finished it would hide the low lying mounds, acacia trees, and bramble bushes from view. In the distance, the soil moved. She squinted. Had she been in the sun too long? Was the heat plaguing her sight? Her skin tingled. No, this was not the sun’s deception. Travelers to Jerusalem did not come in such a mass. Not from the west, and not heading toward the devastation where Nehemiah wept. An army descended upon the city.

“Soldiers,” she shrieked as panic rose in her soul. Adah turned and dropped to her knees, glancing at Othniel before fixing her gaze on her father. “Soldiers are advancing toward the city. The valley is filled with men.”

Adah retraced her trail on the makeshift stairs. Her heartbeat boomed in her ears, loud enough to deafen the commands spewed by all in range of her alarm. How could they fend off a well-planned attack? The wall around the city was not yet half built and some areas even lacked a foundation. Who would war against Jerusalem when the governor resided in its midst? Nehemiah had a commission from the king.

A trumpet blast echoed over the streets of the city. Someone else had spied the enemy. She shivered as if God had finally sent a cool rain over the stricken land.

A boy ran past, his scream a higher pitch than the ram’s horn.

“Grab your swords. We must fight,” the boy shouted.

Othniel grasped her hand. “Take your mother home and stay there.” His words raced faster than the messenger.

She resisted his tug. “This is my city and my wall.” Her stomach cramped at the thought of losing everything she held dear. “No one will breech it without meeting my wrath.”

Othniel released his hold and picked up a cutting blade. “Not before they meet mine.”