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Authors: Diana Wallis Taylor

Journey to the Well: A Novel (27 page)

BOOK: Journey to the Well: A Novel

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A movement beside him caused him to jump slightly. Ahira, the man he had been waiting for, lowered his short, heavy bulk into a chair. He smiled benignly at Haman, his eyes like two small bright coals in his pudgy face. Ahira was a man of many talents, and Haman paid him to do his bidding. Ahira could serve him well at this moment.

The two men Haman had been watching stopped at a fruit stall and were eating as they appeared to casually survey the crowded marketplace. Haman motioned to Ahira. “See those two men at the fruit seller’s stall?”

Ahira nodded, studying them carefully. He had an excellent memory.

“Follow them and tell me where they go and what business they are about.”

Ahira’s smile was ingratiating. His interest was piqued. He was very good at gleaning information and making use of it. He nodded and left the wine shop.

Haman watched the two men continue down the street with Ahira casually but closely following. His thoughts returned to Marah. Her beauty was quickly fading in his eyes. She was pale and seldom smiled. She shared his bed, if a man could call it that. If he had not been caught up in having to stay in Shechem, he could have had his way with her and gone on to a far city taking just the memory of her with him. Now he was saddled with an old man, a poor excuse for a wife, and a nuisance of a boy. He nursed his wine and wallowed in self-pity. Every time he looked at Caleb, it was Jesse all over again. He had his father’s long legs and blond hair. He reminded Marah of Jesse too.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Ahira’s return until the little man sat down quickly across from him. Haman could tell he had information.

“What did you find out?”

“My lord, it appears that they are looking for you.” Ahira studied Haman’s face to see how he took the news.

Haman remained calm, not allowing his alarm to show. He would give Ahira no cause to have an edge on him.

“Why are they looking for me?”

“It appears they have gone to the elders of the city in regard to a murder. They accuse you of killing the brother of one of the men. He has sworn to avenge the death with your blood, my lord.” Ahira’s small eyes glittered.

“Fools! I didn’t kill the man. I killed the murderer and thief who had done the task when he tried to kill me also. They came upon the scene and drew their own conclusions.” He swore again. “Now I must consider what to do.”

“My lord, if you are indeed innocent, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Son of a jackal, how can I prove I did not kill the merchant when I stood with my knife in my hand, the blood of the thief still on it?” Haman smacked his palm with his fist. He appeared to be angry in front of Ahira, but cold fear welled up in Haman and it took all his skill to fight it down.

“I can yet be of service to you,” said Ahira smoothly, ignoring Haman’s outburst. He was used to Haman’s temper. “They inquired as to your whereabouts and have been told by your wife that you had left on a caravan. It may be that if this is proved to be true, as far as they are concerned, they will leave to seek you in another city.”

Haman smiled and his eyes narrowed. Ahira was just the one to make sure they believed he had left the town of Shechem. He reached for his bag from his girdle and counted out two gold coins. “There is double this if they believe you and leave Shechem.”

Ahira’s eyes glittered. He loved gold. Haman always paid well. He scooped up the coins and looking around him, left the shop quickly.

Haman stretched and thought about what his next move would be. He could not stay here and he could not go home, but there was one other place no one would look for him. He smiled to himself. Ahira would know where to look for him when he returned. He put a coin down to pay for his wine and looked around quickly before leaving. His sharp eyes spotted a young boy with blond hair, moving out of sight among the throng. Caleb. The boy was spying on him again. What had he heard? Haman swore to himself. Things were becoming complicated. He knew Ahmal was watching him closely. He thought he had been very careful in the things he had “removed” from the shipments. Things he had given to Marah, to please her. Now all was for nothing. He thought of the two men. Perhaps he needed to find a way to safely leave Shechem . . . and the sooner the better.

A
hira watched to see the small inn where the two men lodged. When they sat eating a simple meal, he casually wandered in and sat nearby. Waiting for an opportunity, he called the innkeeper over and inquired, in a voice just loud enough for the two men to hear.

“Innkeeper, do you know a man by the name of Haman, son of Jemuel of Joppa? A factor for one of the caravan masters?”

The innkeeper shrugged his shoulders. The town was full of strangers because of the caravan route that passed through. “I do not know this man, I’m sorry.”

Ahira shook his head and stared at his wine, and waited. In a moment the man called Manahath turned to him. “You seek a man called Haman?”

Ahira smiled innocently. “You know of him? I seek to do business with him, but he is nowhere to be found.”

Manahath grunted. “We were told that he left with a caravan this morning. We also seek him . . . for another matter.”

Ahira’s face reflected his disappointment. “I cannot wait a month or so until he returns. Do you by any chance know which direction the caravan is taking? Perhaps I can catch up to them.”

Zadok joined them. “We were told it was headed for Jezreel,” he growled.

Ahira brightened. “There is safety in numbers. Perhaps we could travel together, since we seek the same man.”

Manahath studied Ahira for a moment. “We travel best alone, my friend. If we should indeed catch up to him, we will tell him you seek him. What is the name we may give?”

“Ahira.” He looked from one face to the other pleasantly. “I will forever be in your debt.”

“We will remember your name. A thousand pardons, you will excuse us? We must leave at dawn tomorrow to catch up with the caravan.”

Manahath turned away, and Ahira heard them whispering between themselves. Zadok obviously was in a mood to leave even at this moment, but Manahath was restraining him. Evidently Manahath had convinced him to wait for daylight for with a sullen nod of his head, Zadok stalked out.

Ahira waited a few moments and then paid for his meal and headed quickly to find Haman. He had earned his gold.

Pleased with himself, Ahira hurried through the narrow streets to a house he knew well. From a doorway here and there came the sounds of tinkling laughter and music. He looked carefully to his left and right, for there were others who frequented this dark street. He knocked and Hodash opened the door slowly, clearly resenting the interruption. Haman tossed her a few coins and promised to return. Mollified, she picked up the coins.

Ahira and Haman went to a small dark wineshop at the end of the street.

“You can be at peace, my lord, I have done as you asked.”

“They believe I am on the caravan?”

“They leave on the morrow to seek you, on the caravan to Jezreel.”

“Jezreel?”

Ahira nodded. “It is as your wife told them.”

Haman stroked his beard with one hand. Marah had protected him. He should be grateful for that, but it was only a reprieve. If they did not find him on the caravan, they would be sure to return. What was he to do now?

“You have done well.” Haman tossed the two gold coins on the table, but just as Ahira was reaching for them, Haman’s hand came down heavily on his. “Just to be sure, you may observe their early departure, my friend.”

Ahira liked his sleep, but it would do no good to cross Haman. It would be better to stay in his good graces, unless of course there appeared another avenue, with more gold. He pocketed his money, and was gone.

Haman watched him leave. Now what would he do with the time Ahira had purchased for him? He could go to the elders and plead his case, or—and he brightened—he could go the other direction from Shechem. The particular caravan he knew of was a long distance away. A few simple arrangements, and he could leave his troubles behind.

Ahira, concentrating on counting his money, did not look up as he passed a dark passageway in the city. A voice spoke to his right and an arm propelled him into the shadows.

Ahira felt the coldness of the blade against his throat.

“We would speak again, my friend,” said Manahath.

M
arah wrapped the cheese and bread in a small cloth and handed it to Caleb. “This is all I can give you today. Pay attention to the rabbi and learn your lessons well. You must not bring shame to your grandfather, or your father.” Word had come to her that Caleb was listless in the school, and the shammash had punished him severely for his inattention.

“I will try, Mama.” His voice was almost a whisper.

“Caleb, we will be all right. We must all be strong. Your father would want to be proud of you.”

Caleb nodded unhappily. “I will do better, Mama. I will do better for Papa.”

She put her hand on his shoulder affectionately. “I know you will, Caleb.”

She watched him go and stood in the doorway for a moment. It had been two years since Jesse died, yet it seemed like only yesterday that he was there beside her. In her mind he lived on. The more Haman revealed his dishonesty, the more deeply she clung to the memories of happier times with Jesse.

Caleb was now twelve. The Samarim did not have a Bar Miswa, making a boy a “child of the Law” as did the Jews, but they did question their young men’s knowledge of good and evil, thus making them accountable to God. Her heart felt heavy to think that Jesse would not be there to see his son through this special time of his life.

Elon was feeble, but his mind was still strong. He patiently questioned Caleb in the same way the shammash would. Marah watched over him tenderly and prayed that God would be merciful and let him live to see his grandson come of age. Elon was the only one who really knew the truth of her life with Haman, and he was a comfort to her in the lonely evenings. Since he was a strong believer in dreams and omens, she hesitantly shared the recurring dream that stayed with her through the years, the stranger who reached his hand out to her. It came to her again last night, renewing her strength. Elon listened sagely and thought a long moment.

“I do not know the meaning of the dream, Daughter, but if it is a comfort to you in some way, then it must be from God. It is a good dream.” He nodded vigorously to confirm his words.

“That is good to know, Elon. I thank you for your counsel.”

Pleased that she had turned to him with a need, Elon leaned against the side of the house and dozed.

Marah shook her head. If her life was as God willed, it was full of peaks and valleys. Where would it all end? Caleb grew taller and she feared that one day he would defy Haman. She bowed her head quietly in the courtyard. The God Who Sees knew her life, was it not in His hands? She stood in the morning sun and prayed earnestly for them all.

Haman stood in the shadows of the caravansary. He watched the activities of the main courtyard carefully. It was a quiet time of the day and there were only two camel drivers in the area. He watched them check their camels and go off together. Now was his chance. He looked around furtively and then straightened his shoulders and strolled out to one of the camels. He looked around again. There was no sign of the camel drivers returning. He saddled the camel and mounted, giving the command for the animal to rise. The beast stood reluctantly and Haman urged it toward the gate that led to the road outside Shechem.

Haman thought ruefully of his horse. It had been a good animal, but unfortunately Haman had sold him. Just when he was congratulating himself on the ease with which he had gotten the camel, he glanced to his right and saw Caleb standing defiantly by the gate.

Haman thought quickly. Appearing to be in no hurry, he ordered the camel to kneel and dismounted.

“You did well in your lessons today?” he asked sternly.

BOOK: Journey to the Well: A Novel

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