For a moment, no one spoke. Then the officer near the door shouted, “Where are your manners, you flea-bitten Israelite dog? The holy man himself must appear to the Lord General, not send him a message through a servant.”
The servant cringed, but he repeated, “Thus says my master to Naaman of Damascus: Go to the Jordan River and wash seven times, and you will be whole.” As the officer lunged at him, he ducked back into the house, slammed the door, and barred it.
Next to me, Lady Doronit moaned. I was too shocked to make a noise or even move.
General Naaman brought his fist down on the rail of his chariot. “Is that all?” His cloak fell back from his mangy hair, showing his face reddened in between the blotches of white. “Is this what I journeyed all the way from Damascus for? The holy man does not even greet me himself? He does not lift his arms to the sky and call upon his God, Yahweh? He does not wave his hands over me like a proper healer and cure my disease?”
Someone must do something, I thought. After being treated this way, General Naaman would never do what Elisha said. He would not be cured. Someone … I looked all around at the people waiting in the street. The officers and guards, the general’s attendants, Lady Doronit, the camel drivers — none of them could help.
All their eyes were fixed on General Naaman as he ranted on. “‘Go wash in the Jordan River,’ he says! The Jordan, that muddy trickle! Why could I not remain in Damascus and wash in the sweet clear water there?”
No one saw me slip off my donkey and sneak into the alley. I must speak with holy Elisha and explain to him, I thought. A brick missing from the courtyard wall gave me a toehold, and I boosted myself up and over.
I landed in the small courtyard in front of the man I had glimpsed earlier. He sat on a bench as if he was waiting for me, for he did not seem surprised to see a girl climbing over his wall. Now that I could see him plainly, he looked just as I had imagined him — just as B’rinna had described Elisha, except that this man’s beard was gray. He wore a mantle of goatskin, and he had a deep, quiet gaze.
“Oh, please, sir!” I dropped onto my knees. “Please go speak with my master yourself. I am afraid he will not do as your servant told him. He is so insulted! Could you not speak kindly to him, as you did once to B’rinna?”
“Ah, B’rinna.” Elisha smiled at the memory, but then he shook his head. “The poor widow B’rinna needed only kindness in order to receive the Lord God’s mercy. But the mighty General Naaman needs to humble himself first.”
“But what if he will not humble himself?” I pleaded. “Could you not explain it to him, at least? He does not understand — “ My voice trailed off, and I looked away from the holy man’s deep-set, calm eyes.
“If Naaman will not humble himself,” he said sadly, “he will not be healed.” I began to plead again, but he held up his hand. “Enough. It is not up to me, now, and it is not up to you, my daughter. You have done your part, Adara of Ramoth-Gilead.” He stood up, smiling again. “Come, let me boost you back over the wall.”
It was a wretched journey from Samaria to Tirzah and from Tirzah back down the Farah River to the Jordan. All of us tried to stay away from the general, whether he was raging out loud or sunk in a black silence. I would have stayed away from Lady Doronit, too, except that she called me to her side.
“Why did not the holy man greet the general?” she wailed. “Did he not understand that this was Naaman, commander of the armies of Aram, Mighty Thunderbolt of Hadad?” Not waiting for me to answer, “Why did you tell me that Elisha would cure my husband? Why did I believe you? It was an evil day when I found you in the slave market. Get out of my sight — go!”
I was glad to turn my donkey back to the end of the train. But later that day, she summoned me again. “How do we know the holy man was even at home? Perhaps his servant made up that insulting message.”
Hesitantly, I told her ladyship I had spoken to the prophet himself. “He said the general must become … humble.”
Jerking her horse around to block the trail, Lady Doronit fixed me with a stare. “When we return to Damascus, you will discover what ‘humble’ means. Now, get out of my sight!”
As we rode across the river bottom, I felt something pressing me, heavier and heavier — something more than the hot, thick air. It reminded me of the way I had felt two years ago, crouching in the cave and watching the end of the battle of Ramoth-Gilead. Now, as General Naaman rode up to the river’s edge without slowing, my feeling was unbearable.
Beating my heels against my donkey’s sides, I pushed my way to the general’s side. “My Lord General! Here is the Jordan River. Would it not be easy to do as the holy man said?”
General Naaman did not bother to answer me. But to my surprise, Lady Doronit rode up on the General’s other side and added her pleas. “My husband! I beg you. If the holy man had told you to do some mighty feat, such as running all the way up Mount Hermon, would you not have done it? Here we are at the Jordan. It would take only a little while to wash. Why not try it?”
“You want me to wash in that?” The general pointed to the sluggish brown stream in front of his horse. “I would not have my camels washed in it.” He turned and stared at his wife. “This was your evil idea. A woman should not presume to tell her husband what to do, and her husband should not heed her. Listen to Adara, you told me. Adara of the sweet face! If this dried-up gutter Jordan had more water in it, I would drown the stupid brat.”
“Lord General, with all respect — “ Now that we were actually at the Jordan River, General Naaman’s companions seemed to feel the urgency as I did. They crowded around the general, pleading with him to try the cure.
“Silence!” roared the general. He pulled his cloak over his head and urged his horse forward, scattering the officers and splashing mud onto Lady Doronit’s robe.
I waited for the rest of the procession to go by before I let my donkey follow the last camel across the ford. The Jordan River, General Naaman’s one chance for healing, was now behind us. I was as grieved as if B’rinna herself had deceived me. What good is healing, I reproached her in my mind, if it is offered in such a way that he refuses it?
By the time we reached the foot of the bluffs on the east bank, I was sunk in gloom. It took me a moment to realize the procession had stopped. I wondered why we were halting here, when it was not yet near evening. Then I saw the general riding back down the line. There was a strange calm on his face as he brushed past us. “Wait here,” he muttered to no one in particular. We watched the general disappear in the direction of the Jordan River.