18

Shouts of masons and the thud of hammers greeted Adah as she neared Jerusalem. No relief crept into her soul at seeing the growth of the wall and the frame of the gates. Her posture grew rigid every time she thought of Othniel running to join strangers on his journey to serve a foreign master. Why build Jerusalem and make her a fortress, only to sell her people to slave in the lands of their enemies? She had kept Nehemiah’s secret about the assembly, but today she would not stay silent about the injustice around her.

“Forgive me, Lord,” she prayed. “For I passed by Beulah’s grief as if it were a bother. Now the same suffering has come upon my heart, and I cannot ignore the pain. Embolden me to speak for the downtrodden.”

After entering the city, she dismounted and withdrew her sword from the saddle bag before sending Micaiah on his way with the mule. If Othniel’s father would not accept choice meats from the daughter of Shallum, perhaps he would accept fodder for the mount she had ridden. She would send a supply of hay for the mule later and wrap some raisin cakes for Micaiah.

Marching toward the council chambers, she passed the temple, and dodged a few stragglers returning from afternoon prayer. An overhang held up by four thin columns cast shade on the steps to the meeting place. A mosaic of indigo and amber tiles outlined the main entrance. As she reached for the door, it flung open. Nehemiah nearly trampled her. She jumped backward as the governor and Ezra halted. The aroma of sage and myrtle incense wafted from the room the priest and Nehemiah had just left.

“Daughter of Shallum.” Nehemiah’s eyes widened at her presence. “You are not working on the wall today?”

“Governor. Teacher.” She bowed and nodded toward Ezra. “If you will hear me, I have a case to plead.” Wiping her hands together, she willed the worn strip of bandage to soak up her sweat.

“May it never be said that I did not listen to one who gave me comfort in a time of grief.” The governor turned to Ezra. “I do not want to keep you from your duties.”

“By all means, allow the woman to speak. She still carries that sword.” Ezra encouraged her with a thin-lipped grin.

She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking and cleared her throat. Oh how she prayed the governor would be as willing to hear her rebuke as he had been to receive her comfort. “You once told me you followed God’s leading and petitioned the king to leave the palace and rebuild the wall where your fathers lie buried.”

“I did.” Nehemiah’s gruff response nearly turned her feet to stone.

“Aren’t we building a wall to protect our city and our people? Yet these rocks cannot protect us against famine. These boulders cannot stop our sons and daughters from being sent away to serve in pagan households. Families who cannot pay their taxes are forfeiting their children for a few coins.” Her attention fell to Ezra. “Doesn’t our law forbid this slavery?”

The priest arched his back. Had she insulted his knowledge?

“Who has sanctioned the servitude of our people? Certainly, not I.” He cast a glance at the governor. “I have been diligent in upholding God’s commands.”

Adah tensed. She did not intend to insult Ezra, but she knew of what she spoke. She looked to Nehemiah, confident in their friendship.

Nehemiah gazed out over the sun-drenched steps. “I have not been here long. But my desire is to fill these streets, not empty them.” He crossed his arms and tapped a rhythm with his fingers. “Let us ask the rulers about such a matter. They are the ones that settle the debts of our people.”

Shuffling sandals caught her attention. If she had been a bird, she would have flown high into the sky, for at that moment, her father, followed by Rephaiah and his hateful son Gershom, sauntered toward the governor. They hiked the steps and stopped, closing off any way of escape. Ezra widened their intimate circle.

Caught in a vice between powerful men, she stiffened. Be brave and courageous.

“Shallum. Rephaiah.” The governor’s call upon the rulers held no hint of pleasantries. “Is hardship causing our people to stray from the Law? Have we not tended to the poor? Your daughter has brought a serious charge against the officials of this city.”

Her father’s face wrinkled. He glared at her with a fierceness she had only seen when the doctors testified her mother would never regain her sight. “Daughter, what is this gossip? What falsehoods have the laborers been spreading?”

The condemnation in her father’s voice chilled her blood. When did she ever stand idle and whisper half-truths? “Father.” She reminded him of their kinship. “Othniel is on his way to Kadesh-Barnea so his family can pay taxes on their fields. He is bound for six years to an idol worshipper.”

“How can this be?” Ezra said, stroking his beard and perusing the officials. “Was this suffering brought before an elder or a priest?”

Gershom laughed like a braying donkey while his father remained stiff and still. “She is lovesick.” Gershom swished his hand as if a sudden swarm of gnats attacked his position. “Her man leaves her and she petitions us to bring him back. Dismiss her accusation. Work is not a hardship for a boy. Why are we to blame if his family did not manage their obligations?”

Flames licked every nerve in Adah’s body. “Where is your compassion for those who labor on cursed soil? Can a landowner summon the rain? You jingle coins in your pouches earned from their sweat while people go hungry and mourn for sacrificed children.”

“Sacrificed?” Rephaiah gripped the drape of his cloak. “Do not compare our ways with those of godless heathens.”

“We may not throw babies into the fire to please foreign gods, but we are selling our sons and daughters into servitude so a few can prosper. Can we all not bear the tax burden on this city and share food from our tables?” Her throat stung from the force of her truth-filled words.

“Shallum, silence your daughter,” Rephaiah shouted. He nearly knocked his own turban from his head. “I have heard enough of these lies. Am I unjust in my duties?”

Her father gripped her arm with an unknown ferocity. Beads of perspiration shone on his face. “This is not the place for insults. Leave us.”

She ripped free from her father’s grasp and beheld Nehemiah. He stood in the shade of the overhang as grand and tall as the columns. “Governor, please. Today I saw a God-fearing man leave this city. How many more will follow with a drought cursing our lands?”

“You have been deceived. There is no crime in working to pay a tax.” Her father tugged her closer to the steps and away from the meeting room door. “I have confidence Rephaiah considered this matter and reached a fair understanding with the landowners.”

Like he faithfully handled the news of Nehemiah’s arrival? She knew a message had come regarding the governor’s plans, but Rephaiah had hidden the information from her father. Firsthand she had seen how his son mocked the landowner’s pleas for assistance. Their deceptions would not reign victorious this day.

She resisted the pull of her father and locked her gaze on Nehemiah. “People are living in poverty. They’re unable to feed their children. I know this to be true.” Rounding on her father, she said, “What about our own neighbor, Beulah? Have you not seen the tears she spills over her daughter’s absence.”

Her father scowled, beholding her as if she were demon-possessed and frothing at the mouth.

“Our own neighbor grieves a daughter sent away so her unborn baby can be fed.” She gaped at her father’s indifference. “Tell me you are not blind to Beulah’s misery.”

Whap. Pain ricocheted across her cheek. Shocked, she cupped her jaw and swallowed blood-tainted spit. She bore this insult with a furious humility, for who knew what abuse awaited Othniel or Beulah’s daughter.

Her father shook, his garment trembling from the collar to its hem. “We are well aware of the hardship this drought has caused. It is not your place to question our rule.”

Someone must. For all the ones who can’t speak. She let her hand fall to her side. God, where are You?

“Woe to you, woman, for suggesting you know better than a man.” Rephaiah stomped his foot and clapped a hand on her father’s shoulder. “It is about time you disciplined such a reckless girl.”

With a throbbing face, she turned toward Nehemiah and Ezra, and nodded, showing her respect. “I have spoken the truth about our people’s struggles. I’m sorry I wasn’t emboldened sooner. God has entrusted you with the oversight of our people.” She eyed her father. “You men, do as you see fit. May God grant you wisdom. Shalom.”

She navigated the steps with her head held high and a hand on her sword. A few people waiting nearby muttered as she passed. Ramming through the streets like a bull on a charge, she arrived at her family’s designated station along the wall. Pine-scented pitch burned her nostrils.

Telem pounded a stone with vigor. “Where are all my workers? The brothers must keep one eye on the wilderness. Some sentry you are. A legion could have swept in against us.”

Humiliated by her father, and with an ache in her jaw, she glowered at the mason. For the first time in their short acquaintance, he actually shut his mouth and returned his attention to shifting rock.