Journey to the Well: A Novel (11 page)

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Authors: Diana Wallis Taylor

BOOK: Journey to the Well: A Novel
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“Let us return to Athaliah,” Shimei whispered urgently.
Marah took his uneasiness as concern for his mother, for Athaliah had begun to murmur strange things. She would pause in the middle of a task and stare off into the distance for long moments. She would hurry to prepare the evening meal as though Zibeon were coming any moment. She would look strangely at Shimei and murmur, “Zibeon? Are you finally here, my son? You have been gone a long time.” Once Athaliah had called Shimei, Josiah, his father’s name; at other times she seemed like her old self. She checked every task Marah performed, advising her on how to do it better as she had in the beginning. Marah and Shimei would breathe a sigh of relief that perhaps the time of her madness had passed.
Then one day, during the evening meal, Athaliah put down her food and looked sternly at Shimei. “It is your duty, my son.” Her hand gripped his shoulder with surprising strength. “You must raise up a son for your brother.”
Shimei looked as though the end of the world had come. He paused with a bite of food in midair and stared at her, stricken.
“You thought I had forgotten the law, didn’t you?” Athaliah said with a sly look at Shimei. “You think I’m mad,” she hissed, her dark eyes snapping at them. “But I know the law. Yes, Shimei, you must marry your brother’s widow and raise up a son for Zibeon.”
Shimei finally found his voice. “Marah is in mourning . . . for . . . her husband, Mother. Perhaps this is not the time to speak of such things.” Then, “The law says that if a man marries his brother’s widow, it is a sin. They shall remain childless.” Shimei spread his hands and shrugged.
“You cannot get off so easily!” Athaliah’s eyes narrowed and she put her face next to his. “It is also said in the law that if a man’s brother dies
without a son
, his widow must not marry outside the family; instead, her husband’s brother
must
marry her. The first son she bears to him shall be counted as the
son of the dead brother
, so that his name will not be forgotten. But.. .” and Athaliah poked a bony finger in Shimei’s chest, emphasizing her words, “if the dead man’s brother
refuses
to do his duty in this matter, refusing to marry the widow, then she shall go to the city elders. She shall say to them, ‘My husband’s brother will not do the part of kinsman redeemer for me. He refuses to marry me.’ The elders shall speak with him and if he still refuses, then”—and Athaliah looked slyly at Marah—“the widow shall walk over to him in the presence of the elders, pull off his sandal from his foot and
spit in his face
!”
Athaliah gripped his shoulder like a vise. “You will marry your brother’s widow. My shame shall be wiped away. I will be able to hold my head up in the village again,” she stated firmly. “I
will
have my grandchild!”
Shimei awkwardly tried to pat her shoulder. Just as suddenly as it had come, the storm spent itself, and Athaliah looked bewildered. She stood up slowly, looking around her as if seeing the house for the first time. Marah and Shimei both gently urged her to rest. As Shimei led her to her pallet, Athaliah suddenly clutched his hand, putting it to her cheek. Her voice took on a pitiful tone. “You will give me my grandson, Shimei? You will not refuse the law?” She had tears in her eyes as she looked up beseechingly at him. He was overcome with emotion and it was a moment before he could answer her.
“No, Mother, I shall not refuse the law.”
Marah knew Shimei had watched his mother slip close to the edge of madness in the last weeks. He seemed anxious to soothe her, yet there was something that seemed to trouble him. Marah stood with mixed emotions also. She had forgotten the Levirate law. Must she marry Shimei, a strange, quiet man given to disappearing at odd moments? She looked at his long, angular face and deep-set eyes. He was obviously not anxious to marry her. If he refused, Athaliah would force her to go to the elders. Marah could not see herself spitting in Shimei’s face. Over the last months Shimei had been kind to her, in his way. He did not appear to have a temper like Zibeon. Reviewing Shimei’s good qualities, she reasoned that to marry him might be difficult, but not impossible. A child for Zibeon? She considered Shimei’s appearance again. The child would not look like Zibeon. Then as she thought of a child, the grief unexpectedly welled up in her. The tears pooled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. She felt weak.
Athaliah was watching her. “You weep at obeying the law?” she demanded. “My son is not acceptable to you?”
Marah shook her head sadly. “It is not that, I think of my ... son.”
Athaliah’s face softened and she patted Marah’s hand absentmindedly. “You grieve, child. You have your time of mourning.
Then
you shall marry Shimei.” It was so matter of fact, as though it would solve all her problems. Athaliah let them ease her to her pallet and sighed contentedly. She had settled the matter.
“Yes, of course, you were so wise to remember.” Shimei continued to speak softly in his whispery voice as weariness of body and mind drew Athaliah into its fold. In a few moments she slept.
Shimei stood looking down at her. He was like a great crane standing hunched over a nest as he stood awkwardly clenching and unclenching his fists.
At last he turned to Marah and grabbing her arm he pulled her toward the doorway. “I must speak with you.”
Marah felt alarm at his tight grip. He pulled her outside, away from Athaliah. He looked around warily lest anyone be near who could hear their conversation.
“You do not want to marry me,” he whispered harshly. It was a statement, not a question.
“But, Shimei, the law, we are bound by the law. Do you not wish to be my kinsman redeemer?”
He sighed heavily and looked down at the ground. “Marah, haven’t you wondered why I’ve never married?”
She shrugged. While she sensed that she knew, she was not sure she was ready to have Shimei tell her the truth. Hannah had told her of rumors in the village. “Perhaps because you have not found the right maiden to marry?” she answered hopefully.
“You must know it is more than that. I do not do well with women.” He sought for the right words. “I am more, ah, comfortable with those who share my feelings.”
Marah continued to look at him expectantly.
He struggled to finish. “They are . . . not . . . women.”
There it was before them, like a shadow that had sprung from the darkness. Marah felt the shadow spread its cloak around them both and spread heaviness in her chest. What could she say to him? What were they to do? At last she looked up at Shimei. His shoulders drooped with the weight of the secret he had revealed. Stripped of his mask, his face was stark and vulnerable before her. He knew she could go to the elders with what he had told her. It would mean his death. How could she do that?
Suddenly she felt pity and compassion for Shimei, for his life and all that had brought him to this terrible dilemma. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and touched his arm. “You have been kind to me, Shimei,” she said again. “Would Athaliah have to know that . . . all was not as . . . man and wife between us? I would welcome a time to . . . not be a wife.” She looked earnestly at Shimei, wanting him to understand.
The import of her words astonished him. “You would be my wife in name only?” Shimei said slowly. “You would not require . . .” He could not meet her eyes.
“Yes, Shimei, I would do that. Would it not protect you? I in turn would not be required to marry a distant kinsman I do not know.”
Shimei had tears in his eyes and could not speak. If they were found out—if Athaliah should suspect and go to the elders, it could mean punishment for them both . . . and death. Yet he had promised Athaliah he would marry his brother’s widow. He groped for the words to convey his gratitude. “I am sorry for the death of your . . . son,” he murmured finally.
Marah nodded slowly. “It is now a year since Zibeon’s death.
Knowing Athaliah, she will announce our betrothal to the village as soon as possible. She will want the marriage to take place soon. What else can we do?”
Shimei moved his head up and down slowly. Marah knew it was more than he had hoped for.
Athaliah cried out in her sleep. Shimei looked back at the house and gripping Marah’s arm briefly, he slipped out the gate, disappearing into the night.
Marah stood in the middle of the courtyard. She felt as though the whole scene that had just occurred here was not real. For a moment she wished she were a child again. She longed to run to the comfort of Hannah’s arms. She couldn’t tell anyone, especially Hannah. She was not a child anymore. She had shared the bed of a husband and borne a son. She must put away childish fantasies.
As Marah returned to the house, a hymn came to her mind that her father had taught her.
There is nothing like Him or as He is,
There is neither likeness or body.
None know who He is but He Himself,
None is His creator nor His fellow.
He fills the whole world
Yet there is no chancing on Him.
He appears from every side and quarter,
But no place contains Him.
Hidden yet withal manifest, He sees
And knows everything hidden.
Hidden nor appearing to sight,
Nothing is before Him and after Him nothing.
 
She thought of the words “He knows everything hidden,” and felt a shudder go through her body. He is the “God Who Sees Me.” He knew what they planned. Would He weigh it against what she had been through? What terrible penalty would she and Shimei pay for their bargain?
12
 
T
he next day brought unexpected callers. As Marah went about her morning tasks, she looked up to see three men enter the courtyard. It was the shammash and two of the village elders. The shammash ministered in the temple along with his brother, the high priest, and was an imposing figure. He had a straight, high forehead, full brow, and large, almond-shaped eyes. His aquiline nose and sharp chin along with his height and lofty bearing gave him a regal appearance. His countenance was stern as Marah bowed her head in respect and welcomed him to their humble home.
Marah’s mind raced. Why had they come? Something was wrong. Had the night wind whispered its secrets already?
The shammash addressed himself to Athaliah who was sitting in the sun with some sewing in her lap. “We have come to speak with your son.”
Athaliah looked at him curiously. “My son is dead, but he will return. He will return soon,” she crooned.
The shammash looked startled and turned to Marah who spoke up quickly in Athaliah’s defense. “My lord, she took the death of my husband quite hard. He was her older son. Forgive her, my lord, she has not been herself.”
The two elders whispered among themselves and Marah heard the word “demented.”
The shammash waved an impatient hand, silencing them. “It is the second son we have come to see. Certain knowledge has come to me and we wish to question him.” He glanced around the courtyard as though Shimei were hiding in the shadows.
“Truly, my lord, he is not here. He has gone to the next village on business. We are to marry when he returns.” She looked up at the shammash, trying to hide her fear.
“You are young. Perhaps there are things you are not aware of. All is not always as it seems. Before a marriage is to take place, we must speak with this one.” His face was a thundercloud. Marah felt he could hear her heart pounding within her.
“You have not consummated this union?” It was more a statement than a question. For a long moment his eyes bored into hers. She shook her head and looked quickly down at the ground again.
Apparently satisfied that she was telling the truth, the shammash moved toward the gate and beckoned the others to follow. He strode a few steps and then turned back to Marah. “He is to come to the temple, the
Bit Allah
, the House of God, when he returns. We will decide on this matter then.”
Marah watched them go, her heart still pounding. They knew. She was not the only one to share Shimei’s secret after all. The rumors in the village had reached the ears of the council of elders and the high priest. What was she to do? She did not know how to reach Shimei or when he would return. She prayed that he would return under cover of darkness. She would watch for him and warn him of the danger.
Three more days passed before Shimei’s return. Marah had watched diligently each day and listened for him each night before she fell asleep. Her thoughts were troubled. In the Book of the Law, given to them by Moses, the agreement she had made with Shimei was against God’s commandments. She knew she had done wrong, and the guilt lay heavy on her spirit. It had seemed the only thing she could do. Marah made sure that Athaliah was sleeping and quietly crept up to the roof where she could ponder the situation.
She could not knowingly hurt Shimei. Then again she did not want to marry a strange relative of Zibeon’s, should there be one who was able to perform the duties of kinsman redeemer for her. Shimei would have had to publicly renounce his place as kinsman. She thought of pulling off his sandal and spitting in Shimei’s face. She could not do that. Then there would be the question of why. Did the whole village know about Shimei? Did they only want to put the rumors to rest? Her head swam with anxious thoughts until finally she sat down on the matting and wrapped her arms around her knees in the cool air. Then, putting her head down on her arms, her heart cried out to the God of the universe.

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