Word Fulfilled, The (31 page)

“Yes, my lord.”

“You may leave us now.”

Anardu bowed, threw another hostile look at Jamin, and stalked away. Jamin and the official stood and regarded each other. Jamin recognized him as the legate who interrogated Jonah at the Nabu’s temple, and then had him arrested.

Suddenly Jami understood. He was to be punished for putting his shoulder into the guard on the temple steps. They had forgotten him in the melee with the High Priestess, and in Jonah’s arrest. Now it was his turn. But the man who stood before him did not appear to threaten. It also seemed odd such an elevated official would dismiss his guard to be left alone with a prisoner who had already shown himself capable of violence.

Ahu-duri broke the silence. “Come with me.” He turned and moved up the paved pathway. Jamin hesitated, then fell into step behind him.

They rounded a corner and approached a group of three other men, one of whom Jamin recognized as the city magistrate. The other two were probably scribes. One held a softened clay tablet and reed stylus, the other a waxed wooden writing pad and a similar stylus. Another group of men crowded the end of the path near a doorway of the palace.

The official eased himself onto a large cushion near the scribe with the clay tablet. Jamin remained on his feet.

“This man, my lord?” The magistrate—Iqisha, if Jamin remembered correctly—raised an eyebrow.

Ahu-duri nodded and appraised Jamin from his seat. “I have reason to believe he would be a good choice, especially given the current situation.”

Jamin fidgeted in the ensuing silence.

After a moment, the official continued. “Young man—Jamin, I believe it is?”

“Jamin ben Obadiah . . . my lord.”

 
“Jamin ben Obadiah, you have a unique opportunity to serve your king and your kingdom. For reasons I will not go into, I have been empowered by King Adad-nirari to designate a substitute king to serve in his stead for the period of one hundred days. I have selected you. You will begin preparations immediately for the installment ceremony, which will take place in three days.”

Ahu-duri paused and watched impassively as the scribe with the waxed board recorded the decision.

Jamin rocked on his feet. His mind melted into a blur.

The vizier turned to the second scribe. “Prepare a decree naming one Jamin ben Obadiah as the
ugu lugal
. I will seal it and dispatch it to Kal
ḫ
u.”

“Yes, my lord.” The scribe lowered his stylus to the damp clay.

Jamin’s head swam. He could hardly breathe.
Substitute king?

“You are dismissed.” The official’s voice barely penetrated the ring in his ears. “Do not leave the city. Return here at the sixth hour three days from today. I am certain Anardu would be pleased to retrieve you, should you fail to appear.”

Jamin’s feet rooted in place. He stared straight ahead and struggled to swallow through a dry throat.

The official’s voice barely penetrated the numbness that overtook his mind. “I said you are dismissed.”

Lll

Rizpah stared at her husband’s contorted face. “Hiram! What—”

“What are you doing here?” Purple veins pulsed on Hiram’s neck.

Ianna pressed against the wall.

The irate elder took a step toward the girl, and Rizpah stepped in front of him. “Hiram!”

“Get out of my way! Why did you let her in?
Her,
of all people?” He hovered, his beet-red face a hand’s width from his wife’s.

She refused to back down. “Who, ‘of all people’?”

The fire in his eyes burned into hers. “That . . . is the High Priestess of Ishtar. She is the reason Jonah is in prison.”

Rizpah twirled to face the young girl against the wall. “Ianna, is this true?”

Ianna cringed and lowered her eyes.

“Of course it’s true,” her husband sputtered. “Do you think I could mistake something like this?”

Rizpah turned her head. “Hiram, let me speak to Ianna. There is more to this than either of us knows.”

“What’s to know? She’s a vile harlot, and I will not have her in my house!”

Ianna flinched at the insult. She rose unsteadily to her feet and lifted her hood over her head. “I’m sorry. I will leave. Please forgive me—”

Rizpah laid a hand on her arm. “Sit down, dear. You aren’t leaving.”

“Dear?”
 
Hiram blustered. “What are you saying? I want her out—”

“Hiram, enough!”

His wife’s challenge brought him up short. He glared at her.

Rizpah’s hand held Ianna with warmth, but her eyes gripped her husband with ice. Her words came low and steady. “Ianna and I have spent a long time talking, Husband. Over tea.”

“Tea?
Rizpah—”

“Yes, Hiram, over tea. And with the fullest measure of hospitality for which our home has become known.” She raised an eyebrow. “I invited Ianna into our home, Hiram. You will act accordingly.”

Hiram raised his own eyebrows at his wife’s usurpation of his authority. He stared at her resolute face, then at Ianna, who had just settled back onto the mat and lowered her hood. He prepared another tirade but choked back his words when a tear rolled down the young girl’s face. He threw a helpless look back at his wife.

Rizpah crossed her arms.

Hiram’s chest settled with a slow exhale, and he turned away.

Rizpah returned her attention to Ianna. She eased herself down next to the girl and took her hand into her own. “Ianna, would you please explain?”

Ianna sniffed back a sob and looked to the soft eyes of her hostess. She eyed Hiram, who stood by the door with his back to the women.

“Your husband is right. I am the High Priestess of Ishtar. But I don’t know why. . . .”

The daylight outside became dusk, then darkness, as Ianna related her story. She told of her newly discovered heritage and her father’s abandonment of his faith. Sometime during her tale—she wasn’t sure when—Hiram had lit two oil lamps. He had set one on a shelf by the door and the other on the floor by a side wall. She stared at her feet and watched their shadows dance in the flicker of the lamplight.

Once, when she did look up, she was surprised to see Hiram seated on the floor. His head rested on his arms, which were folded across knees drawn up against his chest. Their eyes met for an instant, and he nodded to her. She dropped her gaze and continued.

Ianna omitted Jamin’s visit to the temple from her story. It was a most important part to her, for it was the first she had heard of
Elohim Adonai
. But she feared Jamin may not have told them of their encounter, and she believed the story should come from his lips, not hers.

Ianna’s tale mesmerized Rizpah. She stroked the back of the girl’s hand with her fingertips as she spoke. When she revealed her Jewish heritage, tears sprang to Rizpah’s eyes and confusion to her mind that God would allow a child of the Promise to assume such a wicked heathen office. Yet He was God, and He knew all. Perhaps there was more to this than she understood—of course, there had to be more.

The hostess in Rizpah reminded her of the fact that they’d not eaten, and that the girl must surely be hungry. But she wasn’t about to interrupt the story for the sake of food.

She studied Ianna as she spoke, struck again by her beauty—and the sadness behind it.
Such a waste. But she is still young. Perhaps there is yet time.

It took a concerted effort for Hiram to subdue his emotions. The heat in his forehead threatened to burst into flames at any moment, fanned by his heaving lungs. The news of Jamin’s arrest slipped from his mind in the confrontation with the High Priestess.

He stood with his back to the women, at a loss for what to do. Slowly, Ianna’s words penetrated his burdened mind, and he found his heart begin to soften at her tale. As the twilight deepened, he trimmed two lamps while he bent his ear to her every word. He set one lamp by the front door and the second lamp by the wall, then slid to the floor beside it. He faced the girl for the first time since Rizpah had silenced him. Hiram studied her face and her tone as she spoke. He searched for any sign of deceit or manipulation in her words or her tone. He detected neither. Her soft voice soothed the harshness of the story she told. She minced no words, but neither grew crass in her description of life at the temple.

His reaction to the news of her Hebrew birthright affected Hiram much as it did his wife. He shook his head in wonderment at what
Adonai
could be doing
.
The threat of Nineveh’s destruction, the imprisonment of His prophet, Jamin’s arrest, and now the presence of a child of Abraham on the dais of the High Priestess of Ishtar—it was too much. He felt so small, so inadequate as an elder of his people, as he now came face to face with the stark revelation of God’s plan as He unfolded it.

Hiram had no answers, only questions. He, like his people, was forced to watch and wait on God’s word and His timing. The elder pursed his lips.
Such is faith.

Ianna finished her story with Hulalitu’s confession. She offered no opinions, no conclusions, only the facts. She let the words speak for themselves, for better or for worse.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Oh, my. The temple. There are rituals. I must go.”

She pushed to her feet and drew her hood back over her head. Rizpah and Hiram rose with her.

Rizpah touched her arm. “Are you sure you must go back? Is there any way you can leave the temple, now that you know your heritage?”

Ianna shook her head. “No High Priestess has ever left the office in any way other than death. I’m not even sure what they would do if I tried.”

Hiram approached her. She flinched as he took her arm, then relaxed at his gentle touch. His eyes were warm, but a glint of caution lingered.

“There must be some way.”

She flashed a nervous smile. “Perhaps there is. I’ll see.” She set her jaw. “I would rather die than stay there.”

Ianna’s words pierced Rizpah’s heart. “Surely that won’t be necessary.”

Hiram and Rizpah saw Ianna to the door. Rizpah hugged her and Ianna flashed a grateful smile, then turned to go. When her cloaked figure disappeared down the street, they closed the door.

“What brought her here? How did she find us?” Hiram asked.

“She told me she inquired about the prophet, where he lived. It was not difficult from there.”

Hiram nodded. His mind flashed back to Jamin’s face on the steps of Nabu’s temple when he saw the High Priestess. He could understand how the girl’s beauty had captivated his nephew. He considered telling Rizpah about Jamin’s feelings for Ianna but thought it best to wait. The evening was already heavy with more news than he thought they could digest. Besides, she needed to know about Jamin’s arrest.

“Rizpah, there was a scene at the Council meeting today. Soldiers—”

A crash against the door stopped him.