Word Fulfilled, The (36 page)

Forty-three

Nineveh, the Artisan’s Quarter

Eighteenth Day of Du’ûzu, the Ninth Hour

iram couldn’t believe his ears.

“I tell you, the people are fearful. Word of the prophet’s disappearance has spread throughout the city.” Yitsak, an elder of the Council and one of Hiram’s closest friends, waved his arms in the air. “Those who refused to believe the prophet’s words believe the words of the soldiers who delivered him to the Temple of Ishtar. They waited, but he never came out.”

“Do they think Ishtar had something to do with this?”

“At first, yes. But the High Priestess has assured her council that the goddess had done nothing. She reported that one moment she was with the prophet in the great hall, and the next moment he was gone. The priestess who took Jonah to the shrine room testified the same.” Yitsak lifted his shoulders. “He was gone. Just gone!”

“Like Elijah?” Hiram wondered.

The elder shrugged. “Well, nothing so spectacular as a chariot with fire, but he’s just as gone.”

Hiram shook his head.

Yitsak continued. “It’s been two days, and there’s been no sign of him. Our people watch for the angel of death to descend on the city. They believe
Adonai
has spirited His prophet away to escape the destruction. Many have donned sackcloth and sprinkled ashes on their heads. They fast and pray that God will yet have mercy on Nineveh.”

“What of the Gentiles?”

Yitsak shook his head. “That’s the amazing part. They approach the elders everywhere and ask what to do, how they should respond.”

Hiram was startled. “What do the elders tell them?”

“To do as the Jews do. They are to show their repentance before this all-powerful God, even if they don’t understand why, if they want to avoid His fury. Many have followed our people’s example of sackcloth and ashes, and sought their hearts for what has angered God.”

Hiram allowed himself a tentative smile. “Then . . . then it could happen.”

“Hiram?”

He grasped his friend’s shoulders. “Don’t you see, Yitsak?
Adonai
has sent out His word, and now it bears fruit. Repentance. That is what Jonah preached. That was the message God gave him. Only none of us really believed the city would listen.”

Yitsak nodded. “You’re right. Our faith in His mercy has been as weak as the Gentiles’ desire to know Him.” His voice tightened. “Do you really think this could happen? Could the whole city repent?”

Hiram’s smile broadened. “What did you just say about our faith, Yitsak? Of course the whole city can repent, if
Adonai
is in it. And I begin to believe He is in it, and that it will repent.”

“What do we do?”

“More of what we’re doing now. Spread the word through the Jewish community to follow their brethren’s example, to fast and pray. Have them tell whoever will listen to do the same. We will all don sackcloth and ashes. We’ve forgotten that God has commanded the whole city to repent, and that includes us.” Hiram lips thinned, and his voice lowered. “We thought ourselves immune from repentance because we’re children of Abraham. But we’re not exempt—in fact, the opposite is true. The Law to us has been entrusted not to horde, but to share. We’re to set the example, to spread the news. We are to teach the nations of the Law and the Giver of the Law—starting here with Nineveh.”

Yitsak’s voice lowered. “The prophet gave the city forty days.”

Hiram nodded. “I’ve been counting. That only gives us fifteen more days from when he arrived and met with the Council. We must hurry, my friend. There’s not much time.”

Lll

Ahu-duri lounged and fanned himself with a clipped palm frond. Just before sundown, he would officiate the
ugu lugal
ceremony. His soldiers kept a quiet eye on the artisan’s quarter to ensure Jamin ben Obadiah did not attempt to leave. Invitations to attend the ceremony went out to the noble class. The ritual would take place in the garden courtyard, not far from where he sat. Then the substitute king would take up residence in the partially completed palace. From there he and his queen would assume reign over the kingdom for one hundred days.

The queen.

She had been a niggling detail for him from the start. It was unfortunate the young Jew was not married. It was not necessary, though, that his queen be his common wife. But they did need a queen to take Sammuramat’s place, and he was nowhere close to finding one.

Ahu-duri’s thoughts then turned to where they had lingered for the past couple of days. His encounter with the High Priestess would not leave him alone. He cursed his high position that disallowed him to partake of the
istaritu
ritual while in Nineveh. But the
Entu
was a different matter. Her exalted position not only put her on a social plane equal to his, but confidentiality and privacy of a meeting could also be assured. The question was how to go about it.

He had no doubt she was enamored with him, despite their age difference. That much she made clear at their last meeting. All he needed now was the opportunity. It would be awkward for him simply to appear at the temple. He contemplated a disguise of some kind, but he was too well known. Only with her complicity could he hope to arrange a tryst—dedicated to the Mother Goddess, of course. He had planned to leave Nineveh following the installation ceremony, most likely early the next morning. His departure could be delayed, though, and he was under no obligation to explain why. There remained only one chance to speak to her without going to the temple.

He had ensured there was a special place of honor reserved for her at his side during the ceremony. It was only appropriate, of course. He was the senior royal official, and she was Nineveh’s preeminent spiritual figure. Iqisha would just have to understand why he would be relegated to third position. The commotion that was sure to follow the ritual would provide the best opportunity to inform her of his availability—and his desire. She would know what to do from there.

Lll

Jamin hugged his aunt and uncle. He had done his best to encourage them, but the effort fell flat. He was adamant that he go to the palace unaccompanied. It would be difficult enough to enter the palace gate without tearing himself away from loved ones, too. Hiram protested that they were family, and they couldn’t just watch him walk away alone, but Jamin wouldn’t hear of it.

Aunt Rizpah’s eyes had not dried all morning, her normal prattle silenced since breakfast. Fury and helplessness locked Uncle Hiram’s jaw. He felt responsible for his nephew’s presence in Nineveh, and now it had led to this. All they could do was promise to get word to his parents in Aššûr, although neither of them knew what to say, or how to say it.

“I must go. Perhaps
Adonai
will yet intervene.” Jamin attempted a smile, but it died on his lips.

Aunt Rizpah turned away amid a fresh wave of sniffles.

Uncle Hiram grabbed his wrist. “We will pray.”

Jamin stepped out the door. The latch clicked, and he was gone.

Lll

Ianna, clad in the most glorious raiment the High Priestess of Ishtar’s wardrobe had to offer, sat on an embroidered cushion while Hulalitu ran an ivory comb through her hair. The regal necklace of her office hung around her neck. The ceremonial cap and staff laid on the mat by her side. Everything was ready, except the High Priestess herself.

Her gaze was distant, her thoughts far away. Since she received the vizier’s invitation to the ceremony, her mind searched frantically for a way to decline, but there was none. News of the substitute king’s selection had become lost amid the drama of her mother’s and Hulalitu’s revelations, then Jonah’s release from prison and escape from the temple. She had nearly forgotten the reason for the royal entourage’s presence in the city until word arrived this afternoon that her attendance was expected. Although she knew of the
ugu lugal
custom, she knew nothing of the installation ceremony. She assumed she would have no part; surely she’d have been told if she did. And then there was the matter of the young man, Jamin.

Jamin.

She was unprepared for the effect his name would have on her. When her mother whispered it to her in the cella two days ago, a warmth had spread down her cheeks. Her thoughts had been on him often over the past several weeks, more so since they locked eyes on the steps of Nabu’s temple. Now her thoughts were seldom elsewhere.

Jamin.

Such a simple name, and how easily it rolled off the tongue. He was the first man to speak love to her. His love and that of a strange God—her God. Despite everything Jamin’s aunt told her that evening over tea, there was still so much more to know, so many more questions. It warmed and puzzled her how a common ancestry and faith now connected her to the impetuous young Jamin.

The ethereal voice that plagued her the evening of her ascension to High Priestess had probed her twice since she cast it before God. It fought to grip her brain in its prickly shell and whisper its venom in her ear, but it snapped away at the mention of
Elohim Adonai
. Ianna mouthed the name of God over and over again. She thought of another voice, a quiet voice that revealed this God to her when she needed Him most. But, along with her new God, stood the young man.

Jamin.

Elohim Adonai.

It also struck her curious how both Jamin and
Adonai
crystallized in her mind the moment she learned their names. She remembered the story of a god who withheld his name from the other gods in the belief that anyone who knew it would gain a measure of control over him. And didn’t her own father hide their family’s true names and assume ones he believed would garner them more acceptance by their neighbors? A mirthless smile came to her lips. Her father was right in all his wrongness. A simple name could mean so much.

If the voices who served Ishtar could not stand before
Elohim Adonai
, then He was mighty indeed. One worthy of devotion, worthy to be served, worthy of—her love.

Elohim Adonai
.

Jamin
.

Her head cooled, awash in peace the moment she could call them by name. Then she looked around herself, and the peacefulness ebbed.

She was still here. In this temple. In this gown. She was trapped as the preeminent servant of a goddess she despised. Ianna wondered if there would ever be a chance to escape. One thing she did know. She could not go on this way.

Lll

For two days now, Jonah remained hidden in the house away from the windows, out of sight. He felt caged, hopeless, impotent, and he didn’t like the frustration it stirred. The melee in the temple square played itself over and over again in his mind. The elders had tried to carry the message, to warn their Assyrian neighbors, but were only beaten for their efforts. Nineveh was beyond hope; now he was certain of it. The city deserved the destruction
Adonai
was sure to deliver, and, in his restlessness, he believed the sooner God acted, the better.

An overwhelming desire to express his love for Hannah added to his restlessness. His insecurity with such new and raw feelings confused him. He stifled the sensual urge out of respect for her, but it didn’t lessen—quite the opposite. He’d lay awake, restive with desire and guilt every time his mind strayed to where she lay in the darkness a short distance away. And those times were many.