Journey to the Well: A Novel (34 page)
Read Journey to the Well: A Novel Online
Authors: Diana Wallis Taylor
“Perhaps he will only stay the three days as is the custom, and with Ahmal gone, he will move on.”
“Three days may be too long,” Hannah said, looking directly at Marah, who rolled her eyes at the implication.
“With a man such as Reuben in your household and you a woman alone, who will believe that he has slept only on his own bed?”
“Your words echo my own thoughts, Hannah.” Marah sighed. “What should I do?”
“He is the brother of your husband. What can you do, except to hope he goes on his way?”
“I am sure he will. There is nothing for him here.”
“Let us hope so. That is a man who likes women. He has had no lack of them, I am sure. Be on your guard until he leaves, for I see the way he looks at you . . . with hunger.”
“I will be careful. He is not the first, nor do I suspect the last, to seek my companionship in that way.”
“The others were not staying under your roof.”
Marah nodded and stared at the ground, her thoughts jumbled in her mind. Reuben was indeed handsome and when he looked upon her with those dark, laughing eyes, something within her shivered, and not out of fear.
Oh Ahmal. Please return to me. I feel so alone. Now it is as if the bulls of Bashan gather around me
.
Caleb, where are you, my son?
She had no one to protect her. No servants, no Eliab, no husband or sons. Simon and Hannah’s house was not nearby. What could Simon do? If she were accosted and cried out, who would hear her within the thick walls of Ahmal’s house? Who would believe that she had been unwilling?
Oh Ahmal. Please return to me. I feel so alone. Now it is as if the bulls of Bashan gather around me
.
Caleb, where are you, my son?
She had no one to protect her. No servants, no Eliab, no husband or sons. Simon and Hannah’s house was not nearby. What could Simon do? If she were accosted and cried out, who would hear her within the thick walls of Ahmal’s house? Who would believe that she had been unwilling?
Hannah put a hand on her arm. “I must go, my friend, but send for us if you need us. I will pray for your protection, and that your son and husband will return to your gates . . . soon.”
“Thank you, Hannah. And thank you for bringing provisions for a meal. You do not have that much to spare and yet you share with me so generously.”
“We can help with one or two meals, but who are we to be able to feed two hungry men for a long time?” She had been watching Jacob as he followed a small bug across the courtyard. A six-year-old boy found life fascinating indeed. She turned as Simon and Reuben came out of the house.
“What other news have you brought to us from the world outside Shechem?” Simon was asking.
Reuben thought a moment and then laughed softly. “There is interesting news of an itinerant Jewish rabbi traveling the country . . . with very different thoughts.”
“A Jewish rabbi traveling the country? And just what does this rabbi have to say that is different?” Simon was interested.
“He is called Jesus, the son of a carpenter of Nazareth.”
“It is well said that nothing good comes out of Nazareth!”
“Well, it appears this rabbi does miracles. He was a carpenter himself until a short time ago when he began to travel with his band of followers. A ragged group if ever I heard of one. Fishermen, a former tax collector . . .”
Simon had listened with interest but snorted. “Who would want a former tax collector in his following? He would be a thief as they all are,” he added vehemently.
Reuben ignored the remark. “As I was saying, he is unusual. People are healed of all sorts of diseases, or so I was told. There was a blind man who came to Him, and his eyes were opened.”
Simon waved his hand impatiently. “Who ever heard of a blind man receiving his sight again? Is he a sorcerer?”
Reuben laughed. “There is a difference of opinion on that. Some believe he is a sorcerer and others say he is a man of God.”
Marah was intrigued. A rabbi who can heal a blind man’s eyes? Truly this was a wondrous thing.
Reuben’s voice became conspiratorial. “It is said that he angers the leaders of the Jewish Sanhedrin.”
Simon was amazed. “A man who does miracles angers the Jews? How is that?”
“He speaks of having a father in heaven. And he openly speaks against the Law. He seems to feel that they follow the letter of the Law, but not the intent.”
“A blasphemer!” thundered Simon, striking his fist in his palm. “Why do these Jewish leaders allow him to teach? They should get rid of him!”
“I am sure they have tried, my friend, but it is said that no man speaks like this man. Everywhere he goes, because of the miracles, the people follow Him like sheep.” Reuben laughed scornfully. “I have only heard these things. Perhaps people exaggerate. He will probably fade away like all the others sooner or later.”
Simon was still fuming. “We of the Samarim live by the Pentateuch. It is our Book of the Law. It is a good thing Jews have no dealings with Samaritans. He would find himself in great trouble trying to bring his blasphemy here.” He looked closely at Reuben. “You do not follow him?” It was an accusation.
Reuben spread his hands and shook his head. There was a slight sneer on his handsome face. “Truly, my friend, do you take me for a fool? I have better things to do.”
Simon nodded sagely. Marah listened. There were sorcerers in Samaria who did many miraculous things, but they did not teach the people about the Law. This was a strange man . . . different, a man who could open the eyes of the blind. She found herself wanting to hear more about this man, but then chided herself for her foolish thoughts. If he spoke against the Law, he would not be teaching the right things.
Simon beckoned to Hannah and Jacob. Reuben walked them to the gate as if master of the house.
“It was good to meet the brother of Ahmal,” Simon was saying. “Perhaps when you come back another time, he will have returned. When will you be leaving Shechem?”
“I have business here. I may stay awhile. I find Shechem an interesting town, worth . . . investigating.” He spoke to Simon, but his eyes rested on Marah.
For three days, Marah had been cautiously avoiding Reuben other than to prepare an evening meal. She had worked outside when he was inside, and had placed the heavy bar across her door at night. She was sure Reuben had heard her lower the bar in place. He appeared amused by her tactics. He disturbed her and he had seen her watching him from time to time. Hannah’s words rang in her mind.
He is a man who likes women.
She would be on her guard, yet deep inside she knew she was afraid . . . of Reuben, or herself?
He is a man who likes women.
She would be on her guard, yet deep inside she knew she was afraid . . . of Reuben, or herself?
Tema slunk about the house and went on various errands for Reuben. She had taken an instant dislike to Tema and didn’t trust him. If the house had been in its former condition with Ahmal’s beautiful treasures, she would have feared to find something missing. As it was, it was a blessing. There was nothing of value left to take.
Marah adhered to her duties of hospitality, according to the customs of her people, and with relief greeted the third day. The men of the east would even entertain their worst enemy if he came as a guest, but only for three days. After that obligation, the enemy’s life was in danger. She knew Reuben was waiting for something and showed no indication of leaving.
That evening, after the meal, she approached him. “My lord, do you wish me to prepare food for your journey tomorrow?” It was worth trying.
“My journey? My lovely Marah, you wound me. Would you have us leave so soon?”
“I . . . I thought . . . since my husband, your brother, is not here, that you would continue on your way.”
Reuben moved closer, his eyes holding hers, and she could not move. “Surely if I left, you would be lonely again, and you are lonely, are you not, Marah?” He traced one finger slowly down the line of her cheek, and in spite of herself, she shuddered.
“You long for the touch of a man’s hand, beautiful one?” He slipped one hand behind her and caught her to him. She tried to struggle, but he only chuckled. Slowly, he kissed her and she stopped struggling. In spite of all her willpower, she responded. Then with a start, she broke away.
“You must not do this, my lord . . . I am your brother’s wife. Please, it would be better if you go.” She backed away from him as he began to stroll purposefully toward her. She saw the look on his face and, with a cry of realization, knew his intent. She must escape, but where? Looking toward her room, she remembered the bar on the door. She ran to her room and closed the door. His footsteps did not hurry as he followed her. She reached for the bar, praying that she would get it in place in time, and to her horror it was gone. It had been removed. She looked around her, but there was nowhere to hide. Reuben pushed the door open and then closed it quietly behind him. She stood facing him, her heart pounding. He reached out and drew her to him again, kissing her eyes and her mouth until her knees nearly buckled. Still she tried to push him away.
“You are a woman made for a man like me, Marah,” he whispered.
Hating herself, and Reuben for this betrayal of Ahmal, she tried to strike him, but he caught her wrist easily. He carried her to her pallet ignoring her struggles. She tried to dissuade him, but it was no use. He was far stronger than she. Finally, she had no more strength. The years of struggle had worn her down. Zibeon, Haman, Reuben, each one possessing her body and tearing a small part of her soul. He took her easily, but it was an empty conquest.
45
I
t was the worst time of the day, yet she knew she must go to the well soon. The midday time of rest would be over and the merchants would return to their shops. Women and children would again be on the streets. She opened the door and the oppressive heat pushed against her. Sorrow and weariness pressed like weights upon her shoulders. She didn’t want to hear the remarks of the men and greet the open hostility of the women. They no longer accused her of having the evil eye, for their whispers were now of another nature. It was as if a pot was nearing the boiling point and would erupt, spewing its contents on everything around it. When Ahmal had been home, she had been safe. She had family. Now, everyone was gone. Dear Ahmal, he had treated her as one would treat a special child in whom one delighted.
Oh Ahmal . . . where are you?
Were Caleb and Demas still alive?
t was the worst time of the day, yet she knew she must go to the well soon. The midday time of rest would be over and the merchants would return to their shops. Women and children would again be on the streets. She opened the door and the oppressive heat pushed against her. Sorrow and weariness pressed like weights upon her shoulders. She didn’t want to hear the remarks of the men and greet the open hostility of the women. They no longer accused her of having the evil eye, for their whispers were now of another nature. It was as if a pot was nearing the boiling point and would erupt, spewing its contents on everything around it. When Ahmal had been home, she had been safe. She had family. Now, everyone was gone. Dear Ahmal, he had treated her as one would treat a special child in whom one delighted.
Oh Ahmal . . . where are you?
Were Caleb and Demas still alive?
She turned back to look at Reuben. His eyes were closed as he reclined back on the cushions. She regarded him pensively and then turned back toward the door. She was reaching for the water jar when his voice interrupted her thoughts.
“It is much too hot to go out,” he murmured.
“We are in need of water,” she answered simply.
He lay back on the cushions, studying her. His long, lean body was relaxed in the way of a man totally at ease and sure of himself. Reuben was like no man she had ever known. Since that fateful evening when he had taken her, she was his at his whim. He seemed to know her very thoughts. It was as if he had cast a spell over her. Even in her shame, he made her feel she was strangely drawn to him. Absentmindedly she ran one hand over her hip and smoothed her skirt. Reuben stroked his beard and watched her. His eyes twinkled and then became somber in a way she knew well. Her heart beat faster. She needed to get away, if only for a little while.
“You are very beautiful, Marah, very beautiful.”
She felt the blood come to her face. She looked away and adjusted the soft folds of material that would protect her face from the fierce heat. “The street is quiet, it is best that I go to the well of Jacob now.”
He cocked one bushy eyebrow. “Ah, the good women of Shechem are avoiding you then?”
“I go where I please. Their clacking tongues weary me.”
“And it pleases you to go in the heat of midday?”
She sighed. “You are here when there is no one else. Your servant is often gone for days on your errands . . . they suspect. . . .” She shrugged her shoulders and did not look at him.
“And to think that they do not trust the brother of your dear, departed husband?” His smile was mocking. “I only pay respects to the widow of my dear, departed brother.”
Marah looked at him quietly. “Respects? Your respect has continued for over a month.”
He threw back his head and gave such a shout of laughter that she moved quickly to close the door.
“Please, Reuben, someone will hear you!”
In answer he rose quickly from the couch and with two strides was at her side. Clasping her around the waist, he kissed her firmly on the mouth, silencing her protests. “Let them gossip, my treasure, they have no proof.”
“They do not need proof to tear me apart with their tongues.” She looked at him sadly. “You believe that Ahmal is dead?”
He gave a snort of derision. “Surely you do not think that he is still alive after all this time?”
“I do not know what to think.” She felt weary.
“Do you wish him to live, Marah?” His words were dangerously soft. “Shall he return to the wife who waits so patiently, so faithfully?” This time his tone was mocking.
The last struck her like a blow and her head came up defiantly, her dark eyes flashing.
Reuben’s voice became soft and soothing. “I find you most interesting when you are angry, my love.” He believed his nearness was having its desired effect. She stood very still against him. She knew better than to fight him . . . even with words.
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