22

Adah gaped at the priest. How could he insult her in front of her father?

The men blocked her return to her home. They stood with wide stances, their hands on their hips, forming a fortress with their bodies. Her civility hung by one thin fiber after the bloodshed this night. How could Delaiah call her lawless after she’d had to force him to protect his own city? How many more of her people would have died if she did not blow on a reed and scream a warning?

Lord, give me strength. I need to get back to Telem and back to the wall.

“Father,” she said, straightening her posture as if giving a defense before a judge. “I believe my actions were misunderstood. I did not strike my elder or touch his skin.” She met the priest’s stare and withheld the urge to grab his adorned robe and shake the truth from his lips. “I pleaded with him to sound his trumpet and warn our men that the enemy was near.”

“You kept me from doing my duty.” Her accuser leaned forward and spoiled the night air with his fermented wheat breath. “Shallum, your daughter ran past the gate in a man’s robe and confused my guards with her shrieks.”

“Your guards? There weren’t enough men at the gate to water mules.” She took a step toward her father to explain her actions. “I saw wagons entering our city and wondered why merchants would travel at such a late hour. Then I saw a man in disguise and knew this was a trick of our enemies.”

Her father’s brow furrowed as he thumbed his beard “Weren’t you with Telem?” His question held a hint of surprise.

She ignored Delaiah’s pious smirk. Hadn’t her father praised the rise of their section of the wall? Surely he knew she and Judith weren’t lifting rocks at heights far above their heads? She would not hide the truth. “I was standing sentry at a low section of the wall so Telem could work.”

“Hah!”

The priest’s self-righteous snort curled her hands into fists. “Isn’t that what Nehemiah ordered?” She beheld her father and willed his understanding, for he stood as unmoving as a baked clay vessel. “I had a sharp sword to defend myself and this city.”

“A city which you stepped out of in the dark of night and fled to the priests at the gate accompanied by men who were of no relation.” Her father stated the charge like he had heard it thrice before.

What male relation should she have called? She had no brothers or cousins or uncles. Should she have ignored what she saw? Waited on God to foil the attempt? What if God had abandoned Jerusalem once and for all? Nehemiah didn’t believe that and neither did she. God protected the city because a woman dressed in a man’s robe witnessed a man dressed as a woman acting unladylike.

This time it was her turn to thrust her shoulders back, puff out her chest and dig her fists into her hips. “I sounded a warning to save our people.”

“I could have sounded the shofar if you didn’t distract me.” Delaiah jabbed his finger close to her eye.

“But you wouldn’t.” Her charge rattled the rooftops.

Her father stepped between her and the overbearing temple servant. “No one was killed in the raid. We have a few wounded fighters. One being my own mason.”

Was that all her father had to say about her heroics? Did he believe the shaded truth of this man over his own daughter? She stepped back and rubbed her arms, trying to warm her skin from the cold shroud that suddenly draped over her. No matter how hard she tried to impress her father, she would never bring him as much honor as a son.

“You must do something about her, Shallum. If she is not put in her place, all women will think they can act like a man. That girl confronted her elders and the governor as if she had authority. She spoke out of turn in public. Ran through the streets with a sword. This shamefulness must stop.”

Adah praised God that her father was a wall between the priest and herself, for if no person stood between them, she would have been tempted to speak her mind.

She placed a hand upon her father’s shoulder and swallowed the rage that caused her body to tremble. She clenched her jaw as the priest came back into view.

“I am sorry you did not feel my actions were helpful to you or to this city, but I took a vow to help restore Jerusalem’s wall before my father, my governor, and my God. And unless my father forbids me from continuing with my labors, I will work alongside men who are not my relation. They are solely my people.”

Delaiah flapped his arms. “Shallum—”

“You heard my daughter. As a man of the law, you know there is nothing I can do about her vow after all this time has passed. I did not disavow her at the assembly.” Her father sounded almost as if he wished he had rejected her plans to restore the wall and have his name written in the record books. “I think it best we return to our duties and prepare for our meeting with the governor tomorrow.”

The priest cast a squinty-eyed glare upon her. “We all know who is responsible for that insult.”

Adah blew out a silent breath, thankful her father did not rebuke her labors at the wall or chastise her for Nehemiah’s summons. She bowed to relieve the cramping in her stomach and hoped the show of respect would slow the slander of her name. “My mason is not well. I need to prepare herbs for a dressing.”

With a nod, she hurried across the street to her storeroom. Once inside, she leaned against the door and basked in the aroma of familiar blossoms, tangy fruits, and earthy moss. Enough moonlight seeped through the window and she didn’t bother to light a lamp. Every jar and bottle had its place, and she knew the precise location of each one.

The cupboard door hung open. In her rush for turmeric, Judith had probably left it ajar. Adah reached toward the top shelf for lavender oil and halted. There, gawking at her, with its tapered tail and embedded dirt eyes was the wooden lizard Othniel had rescued from the stream. Her eyes tingled with tears. He was gone. Had he only left hours ago when it seemed like many Sabbaths?

Don’t cry.

“Protect my Othniel,” she prayed. “I love him.” Uttering those last words gave her weary limbs new life to perform her tasks. With Telem wounded, Jehu and Jehuliel would need her help all the more.

When her jars of healing oils were gathered and organized in a basket, a droplet of water snaked from her thigh to the side of her knee. She shivered as the wetness eased down her calf.

Moving backward for a better glow of moonlight, she lifted her hem and glanced at her ankle.

Blood. Oh no, not her flow.

“Why now, Lord? Haven’t I done enough?” She faced the ceiling. “I am not a man, nor do I want to be, but this is the worst possible time to be a woman. An unclean woman.” How could she help take care of Telem if she couldn’t touch him, or anyone else without making them unclean and in need of isolation?

She reached for her necklace to count the beads and calm her spirit, but when her fingers stroked her neck, all she felt was bare skin.