Word Fulfilled, The (16 page)

Jonah told them what he could. He related Jeroboam’s ascension to the throne, God’s promise of restoration to
ha eretz
, and Israel’s resurgence in the Promised Land of their forefathers. Obadiah sat back and beamed with pride at the news of the renewed Israel. He asked of Elisha, the great prophet. Jonah quietly told them of the prophet’s death over twenty years previously, and that he was buried in his hometown of Dothan. A moment of silence settled over the room, and Obadiah muttered a quiet prayer over the memory of the holy man.

After a larger-than-usual supper in honor of their guest and Obadiah’s birthday, they retired early to rest for Jamin’s and Jonah’s departure at first light the next morning.

Lll

Jonah jerked when Jamin nudged him from his slumber in the predawn. His mother fussed by lamplight while she stoked the cook fire to heat some flatbread, determined that her son and their special guest begin their journey with a good breakfast and a full sack of provisions. Obadiah placed Jonah’s staff and their travel bags against the front wall, then unbolted the door.

After a tearful hug, Judith kissed her son on his cheek. She exhorted him to be careful and to return soon. She smiled at Jonah and nodded her appreciation for his choosing to grace their home with his presence and for lifting their hearts with news of their homeland. Obadiah grasped both men’s wrists and bade them farewell. He blessed them with a prayer for safe travels.

Jamin led again through the familiar streets, lit only by the dim glow of a three-quarter moon low in the sky and the burgeoning glow of early dawn to the east. They walked in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts.

Jonah pondered how he would ever communicate with the people of Nineveh.

Jamin pondered how he would ever communicate with just one certain person in Nineveh.

Both men were still at a loss for ideas when they arrived at the riverfront.

Jamin mentioned how fortunate they were to find passage so soon, as upriver navigation on the Idiqlat River was rare. He explained to Jonah that most goods going north traveled overland in caravans. River craft coming downstream were often dismantled at their destination, the wood from the frame sold, and the skin coverings hauled back north in caravans to be reused by the boat builders.

He related how the Idiqlat’s lazy current between Aššûr and Kal
ḫ
u permitted the flat-bottomed
kalakku
to be towed upstream, usually by oxen that walked a path along the riverbank. Jamin told Jonah their odds of finding a boat would normally have been worse so soon after flood season. In springtime, the river often overflowed its banks without warning. The early rains sometimes washed away paths, destroyed crops and villages, even changed the course of the river itself. This year’s rainy season had been lighter than most, though, and the water level was elevated but not dangerous.

Khalil, the boat owner, was a wiry little man. How old the boatman was, Jonah couldn’t guess. Years of exposure to the sun had turned his dark skin leathery, but his eyes still held the glint of youth. He spoke little, although he wasn’t unpleasant. There was just little to be said.

The trio pushed off into the river shortly after sunrise. The
kalakku
rode the water smoothly tethered to two yoked oxen that plodded along the western bank. Jamin explained that, although Kal
ḫ
u lay on the eastern side of the river, the Idiqlat had no large tributaries that fed it from the west that would block the oxen’s path. The same was not true of the eastern bank.

The barge carried sacks of early barley for beer, small amphorae of sesame oil, grapevine roots to transplant, and sundry other consignment items. Tucked along the stern were the men’s personal bags and supplemental feed for the animals, should they be unable to forage at any point along the way. Khalil took the helm and applied just enough counter steerage to keep the oxen’s pull from veering the
kalakku
toward the riverbank. The oxen knew the path and didn’t require a lead. Jamin shifted the cargo to ensure a balanced load. At midmorning, he glanced over his shoulder at Jonah, who sat hunched over on a sack of barley near the gunwale. Ashen-faced, he held his head in his hands and fixed a blank stare at the passing riverbank. His stomach had lurched the first time before they even cast off the bowline. It hadn’t stopped lurching since.

Lll

They moored across from Kal
ḫ
u just before sunset two days later. Khalil and Jamin spent the night on the
kulakku
, but Jonah offered to go ashore and keep an eye on the oxen. The boatman said that wouldn’t be necessary, but Jonah insisted. Khalil shrugged and mentioned something about snakes. Jonah didn’t care about snakes. If he didn’t get off the water soon, he was sure he would die anyway. His stomach settled the moment his foot touched dry land.

Early that morning, Khalil left Jamin and Jonah to watch the craft while he made his way to the city to arrange a ferry for his cargo. He would inquire about craft bound upstream for his passengers’ continued journey to Nineveh. The two men watched the capital city come alive in the morning light. Kal
ḫ
u sprawled over the landscape, its palaces and temples every bit as impressive as Aššûr’s. A ziggurat rose above the city’s skyline. It reminded Jonah of the tower beside the great temple back in Aššûr. He wondered for a moment to which god this monument was dedicated, but then decided it didn’t really matter. He preferred to avoid the temples anyway, and was glad to stay behind—on shore. Jamin tidied up the barge and waited for Khalil to return.

The swarthy boatman reappeared before midday. He leaped with a smile onto the boat from the sandy embankment. “Good news for you. I go on to Nineveh. More cargo.”

Jamin was overjoyed, Jonah less so. He had secretly hoped they wouldn’t be able to find another boat and that they’d have to go overland. It was only a little over one day’s trek on foot anyway. By boat it would be a full two days, maybe more. Two days on the water. Two days hunched over the side.

By sundown, their cargo was offloaded and a new shipment of dried herbs and spices, as well as three large timbers cut for the king’s new palace in Nineveh, were loaded. The herbs and spices could have gone overland, but the timber’s length and width presented a problem. River transport would be ideal, and the boat owner was very happy with the generous fee he received from the king’s vizier to hasten the materials north. He lashed the timbers together and attached the lead rope to the rear of the
kalakku
. The beams rested in the calm water astern the barge.

Early the next morning, they re-harnessed the oxen and prepared to cast off. Jonah took a long look at the boat’s deck before he stepped aboard. He told himself how silly it was to be sick. The boat was stable, the water was smooth as glass—in fact, if he closed his eyes, he was sure he would barely detect any movement at all. That’s what he would do. He would close his eyes. Then he could imagine he was anywhere but on a boat. Jonah set his jaw, measured the pace to an open spot amid the cargo, and closed his eyes.

His stomach lurched as soon as his foot touched the deck.

Twenty-one

Afloat the Idiqlat River, North of Kal
ḫ
u

Twenty-fourth Day of Simanu

t is a different river every year.” Khalil leaned over the stern and scanned the surface of the water.

“How so?” Jamin sat on his clothes bundle and chewed the stub of a reed he’d plucked from the shallows downstream.

“Floodwaters change the riverbed every season. Silt changes the channel every day. It is not always possible to take a boat this far north.” Khalil nodded toward the water. “Her current is stronger than her sister’s, the Purattu. Yes, the Purattu is much easier to boat. The Idiqlat, she is fickle.”

Jamin’s eyes followed Khalil’s gesture toward the expanse of water. On the surface, the river seemed tame enough. But spring storms in the mountains to the north could raise the water level in short order. He had heard stories of whole villages flooded, caught unawares by the bloated river. He threw a subconscious glance upstream.

Khalil grinned at Jamin’s anxiousness. “Enki smiles on us this year. The God of the Rivers has calmed the Idiqlat. Just for us.” A toothless grin stretched his mouth. “In Kal
ḫ
u, I met two friends. They boat the Idiqlat and just came from Nineveh. They tell me the river is good for travel north. The king will have his timber, no?”

Jamin nodded. He looked over at Jonah, who was sprawled near the bow. “How soon will the king have his timber?”

“By nightfall.”

“That’s good.”

Lll

They arrived at Nineveh late that afternoon. As at Numrud, Khalil tied off the boat and left Jamin in charge while he saw to business across the river. The ferry would take the spices to market, while another
kalakku
towed the timber beams across the river and up the mouth of the Tabiltu to the staging area for construction on the palace.

 
“You must stay at my uncle Hiram’s house while you’re in Nineveh. He and Aunt Rizpah will be honored by your presence. They can also introduce you to the city’s Jewish community.” Jamin bent over Jonah’s supine form.

The queasy prophet squinted from beneath an arm draped across his forehead. “When do we get there?”

“We’re here.”

Jonah peered over the gunwale. The
kalakku
floated motionless at its mooring. Across the water, Nineveh’s western wall rose from the rocky desert floor not far from the riverbank. A tributary pushed through a gap in the fortification and spilled muddy water into the Idiqlat. Branches from a single westward road punched holes through the city wall, their gates still open for perhaps another hour. The tops of great buildings rose above the wall and glistened beige in the late afternoon sun. One of the structures appeared to be either new or newly restored, and scaffolding rose beside another. He guessed the scaffolding belonged to the palace for which their timber was destined.

He pushed himself to his knees and grasped the gunwale to steady his balance and his stomach.

“How do we get over there?”

Jamin shrugged. “We can either take the ferry across with the spices, or walk up to the ford and take the road.”

“Let’s take the road.”

Lll

When Kahlil returned, the two Jews bade him farewell. The boatman grinned at Jamin as they clasped wrists. “You work hard. Maybe we travel together again.”

He just grunted when he clasped wrists with Jonah.

The two men scaled the riverbank and made their way upstream to the ford. Jamin had difficulty keeping up with Jonah, whose energy revived at the feel of solid ground beneath his feet. They reached the Mashki Gate as the sun touched the western horizon. Jamin led the way through the gate and turned up the familiar road to the artisan’s quarter. He forced his eyes away from the temple plaza.

Jamin stood in the narrow alleyway and tapped on his uncle’s door. Jonah fidgeted behind him, with his staff propped against his shoulder. He twisted his travel bag with nervous fingers.

The door opened a crack. “Jamin!”

The door flew open, and Rizpah swooped into her nephew’s arms. She squeezed his neck until he began to gasp. “You’re back! So soon?”

She spotted Jonah over her nephew’s shoulder and released her grip. Uncle Hiram appeared in the doorway, and Jamin introduced his traveling companion.

“This is Jonah ben Amittai. He’s from Israel.”

“Israel?” Rizpah’s hand covered her mouth. Hiram smiled.

“My Uncle Hiram and Aunt Rizpah.” Jamin nodded toward his relatives.

“Shalom
.” Jonah grasped Hiram’s wrist.

They echoed his greeting.

“Uncle Hiram. Jonah has come to Nineveh with a message. He is a prophet of
Adonai
.
”

Uncle Hiram broke the stunned silence first. “Come—come in. Please.” He glanced at his wife. “Rizpah, you’ll need to move. Rizpah?”

She apparently didn’t hear her husband.

“Rizpah. Let the man in.” Hiram threw an apologetic look at Jonah and tugged his wife’s arm.

Rizpah stared over her shoulder, her mouth agape, while her husband guided her into the house.

Jamin smiled red-faced at Jonah and gestured to the door.

Lll

A flustered Aunt Rizpah managed to pull together a modest meal for her family and guest, while the men settled on reed mats in the small front room. They sipped herbal tea still hot from an earlier brewing. Uncle Hiram tried not to appear too curious about Jonah and his message, so he turned the conversation to news of the homeland. Jonah repeated the tidbits he had passed on to Jamin’s parents, which seemed to satisfy his host. Aunt Rizpah kept an ear bent from the cook fire as she worked. Despite her distraction, she clipped only one finger with the knife she was using to trim a string of dried figs.

Uncle Hiram’s curiosity finally won out. “You mentioned a message for Nineveh? Am I permitted to inquire . . . ?” His voice dropped, not sure how prophets delivered their messages, or if it was all right to ask.

Jonah looked up. “Yes, it’s fine.” He repeated the message the angel gave him on Joppa’s beach, and added that the city had forty days to repent before the Lord, or it would be destroyed.

His words hung in the air like a dark cloud.

“Destroyed?” Hiram stared at the prophet. He turned his eyes toward his nephew. “Did you . . . know this?”

Jamin stared at Jonah just as intently. “No, I didn’t.” He set his half-eaten fig down.

Jonah kept his eyes on the mat. “I am to preach repentance to the city, but I’m not sure how. I don’t speak the language.” He looked up and flushed at his hosts’ horrified expressions.

Rizpah glanced up from her work. “What was that, Hiram? I didn’t hear you.”

Hiram repeated his question and Jonah’s answer. His wife dropped the blade and settled onto the floor. Her eyes drilled into her husband’s. “All of Nineveh?”

Jonah glanced at her. “Yes. Unless the city repents, it will be destroyed.”

Hiram cleared his throat. “How?”

“I don’t know. The angel didn’t say. Only that it would be destroyed.” Jonah’s eyes beseeched his host’s. “I’m only the messenger.”

Hiram drew himself up and released a slow exhale. “Forty days is not much time for a single man to warn a city this size—even if he did speak the language.” He glanced over at Jamin. “We can help.”

Jamin cocked his head. “Help?”

Hiram set his face. “We will convene the Council.” He glanced at Jonah. “The Council is the group of elders who watch over the interests of Nineveh’s Jewish population. You can deliver the message to them. They can then pass the word to their families. We have retained the tradition of our native tongue, so we speak both Hebrew and the language of Assyria. We can spread the news much faster throughout the city. That’s the only way we’ll have time to reach all the people.”

“But will it do any good? Will the people repent?” Rizpah’s voice was small.

“We have no control over that. We can only deliver the message. The rest is up to
Adonai
.
”
Hiram addressed Jonah. “You will need to lead. The people must see you and hear you to know the message is indeed from
Adonai
, and that we have not gone crazy in the head.”

Jonah nodded. “When do we start?”

Lll

The Council met at midday in a corner of Nineveh’s marketplace. Business and community gatherings like this were common events in the open square, and no one took particular notice of the group. Hiram was grateful for the anonymity. He knew the message would not be received with calm by anyone who might overhear their parley. To make sure, they would speak only in Hebrew.

Jonah sat to Hiram’s right, the place of honor. The remaining thirty-nine elders sat in two concentric semicircles. Hiram, Jamin, and Jonah occupied the open end of the U-shaped gathering. Hiram hadn’t told Jonah he was the senior elder of the Council, and Jonah was impressed with the measure of deference the others showed his host.

Hiram greeted each of the elders personally with the traditional wish for peace and a kiss on both cheeks. When everyone had taken their places, he rose in silence, his eyes fixed on the ground. This was a grave posture, and the Council grew quiet. The business at hand must be serious.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice. Please forgive me if I forgo pleasantries, for today we have a matter of great urgency to discuss. I ask you to listen carefully, and consider fully your response to what you are about to hear. We will need to decide on a course of action quickly.”

Murmurs spread through the group. Rarely was Hiram this solemn.

He continued. “The man seated to my right is Jonah ben Amittai. He arrived at my house yesterday evening. He comes from Israel.”

The buzz rose, and several of the men leaned over and whispered to those seated next to them. Jewish visitors were rare in Nineveh—especially one who had come directly from
ha eretz
and whose presence warranted a convocation like this.

“What can this be?”

“Has something happened to the Temple?”

“Has Jerusalem fallen?”

Hiram gestured to Jonah to stand. Jonah rose to his feet and surveyed the gathering, wondering how he would present news that their city was doomed.

Hiram raised his hand and the whispers dropped. “Jonah has a message for us, for the city of Nineveh, from
Adonai
. He is a prophet of the Most High God.”

All conversation died in an instant. Every eye stared at the white-haired man who fidgeted beside their leader. The only sound was the rustle of activity from the market vendors’ stalls. That sound, too, faded into the background in the presence of an emissary of God.

Hiram nodded at Jonah and took his seat.