Word Fulfilled, The (39 page)

Forty-seven

The Arabian Desert, East of Nineveh

Nineteenth Day of Du’ûzu, the Eighth Hour

onah leaned against a boulder and shielded his eyes from the glare of the late morning sky. He had fashioned a crude lean-to from dead scrub brush and now rested between its meager walls. A sparse covering of leafy branches formed the roof, which allowed more sunlight in than he preferred, but he had no tools to trim foliage or harvest any other greenery. So he hunched in the small shelter against the hillside for what little protection it afforded.

His refuge opened to the west. He knew it would allow the hot late-afternoon sun to spill in, but he wanted a clear view of the city lying on the river plain below. Although he wanted to see what
Adonai
had in store, his mind was not on Nineveh. It was on one of Nineveh’s inhabitants.

Jonah fretted over the way he and Hannah had parted. He was not confident she would return, but he was firm in his resolve to stay until she did. If she didn’t, he was serious about dying on this barren hillside. So he would wait.

His makeshift shelter betrayed him in its inadequacy when the sun approached its zenith. It was not yet the hottest part of the day, but he already felt lightheaded. His lips were crusted and chapped, his hair matted and plastered to his forehead with dried sweat. He pulled his knees to his chest and draped his arms over them. Time slowed, and still Hannah would not leave his mind. His eyelids drooped.

Jonah didn’t know how long he dozed before he became aware of a light breeze against his bare wrists. He lifted his head and squinted up. His eyes widened when they met with green rather than blue. He twisted his torso and looked behind him to see a thick vine stretching skyward from behind a large rock. Tendrils from the stalk wove themselves into the shelter’s paltry canopy, and broad green leaves sprouted along tendrils that laid flat and plaited a thick cover against the relentless sun. The breeze filtered around a stem that draped the low entryway of his lean-to. Jonah leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He sighed and breathed in the intoxicating freshness of the cooled air.

A tiny splash of moisture on the back of his hand jolted him. He squinted at the splotch of wetness, hesitated, then lifted his hand to his lips. The liquid was cool and sweet, like nothing he’d ever tasted. He looked up and saw another drop poised to release from a pointy nub on the vine’s tendril. Jonah touched his finger to it, and drew it to the tip of his tongue. This droplet tasted even sweeter than the first.

Jonah snapped the bit of foliage from its stalk. More of the clear fluid oozed from the open wound and ran down his fingers. He lifted the piece of stalk, tipped it to his lips, and squeezed a flow of sap onto his tongue. There wasn’t a time in his life he could remember when anything tasted so good. A quick scan of the underside of the canopy yield several more tendrils. He snapped off the thin stems and drained their sumptuous contents into his mouth. Several minutes later, he yawned and licked the last of the nectar from his lips.

Content, Jonah slipped into a light slumber.

Lll

Ianna tucked the last of her few personal belongings into the bundle. The robe of the High Priestess of Ishtar, her ceremonial cap, necklace, and scepter lay in a neat arrangement on her bed mat. She wore a simple white tunic. The plain garb of the virgin
ishtaritu
initiate enveloped her lithe form as gracefully as it had a few short months ago, before her life had come apart. But the spotless white fabric now carried a significance in stark contrast to its original purpose. This day she would wed, and she would approach her marriage bed as pure as the gown she wore.

She closed her eyes and relived the moments after the
ugu lugal
ceremony, when Jamin had taken her aside into a niche of the garden. He gazed into her eyes, saying nothing, but then lifted his hand and brushed his fingers across her cheek. She trembled at his touch, and his face blurred through a sheen of tears. They stood there silently, for how long she couldn’t remember. Then he spoke.

He told her they must be married in the fashion of his people before they came together. It would be a proper ceremony in the sight of God and with the blessing of his family. With no priesthood, the Ninevite Jewish community invested the elders with the authority to conduct weddings. He would call for his uncle and ask him to marry them the following morning. But tonight she must return to the temple; she could not stay with him in the palace.

At first, she protested the notion that they should part. She ached to consummate a relationship that finally felt so good and so right. But a loving look told her he would not bend on this.
Adonai
had brought them together, he said, and
Adonai
would see them through. He smiled with a raised eyebrow and whispered to her how difficult parting would be for him, too. Then they stood and held each other while the sounds of the crowd dispersed from the garden.

Ianna smiled at the reminiscence, aglow with excitement at the man who awaited her. She lifted her bundle and turned to face Hulalitu.

The
naditu’s
eyes were swollen. She wrung her hands, at a loss for words.

“Hulalitu, my . . . friend. Have you summoned Shalla?”

Hulalitu choked back a sob at the precious honorific. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called her a friend. She could only nod.

“And you will go to my mother when I’ve left? I don’t know whether she’s heard about the ceremony yet. Please tell her gently.”

Hulalitu nodded again.

A rap on the door broke the stillness.

“Enter.”

The door opened, and Shalla stepped into the room. She began to dip her head in regulatory respect but balked at the sight of the High Priestess in an
ishtaritu
tunic.

“Come in, please. Close the door, would you?”

Her eyes still locked on Ianna, the senior
naditu
nudged the door closed. Ianna beckoned her forward.

“I know we have had our differences, Shalla. I want to tell you, though, that I always believed you should have been the High Priestess, never myself. My selection was as much a surprise to me as it was to you, to everyone.” She paused. “I still believe you will make a good
Entu
.”

Shalla shook her head. “I . . . I don’t understand.”

Ianna smiled. “Issar-surrat, for reasons still unknown to me, arranged for me to replace her. We both know how unusual that is, that the king selects the
Entu
of Ishtar. However, since the precedence has been set, I’ve had a temple scribe record your name as my successor. I sealed the tablet earlier this morning. With my new . . . relationship with the substitute king, I’m sure he will have no objections. And yes, he is authorized to have you installed as the new High Priestess. King Adad-nirari will have gone into seclusion by now, so he will not be accessible for one hundred days. The position of High Priestess cannot be vacant for a day, let alone one hundred, as you well know. There will be no issues over your ascension. Hulalitu has already begun notifications for the
naditu
council to gather and prepare for your ceremony.”

Shalla swallowed. “I don’t know what to say. I have never disguised my resentment at your ascension to High Priestess. I have disdained you in private and challenged your authority in public. You could have had me disciplined, even banished from the temple, if you desired. Why this?”

Ianna smiled and shrugged. “What is done is done.” She stepped over to the new
Entu
designee and hugged her.

Shalla stiffened at the display of—could it be called affection? Such an act was alien to anything she knew in the temple caste. Slowly her heart softened, and she touched Ianna’s arms with her fingertips, still afraid to betray too much. To abandon protocol completely, even after her emotional confrontation with this High Priestess toward whom she had directed so much hatred, was still beyond her. But something stirred within her, and she felt helpless to resist this strange demonstration of warmth.

Ianna pulled away and gestured toward the sleep mat. “The accoutrements of office are all here. It’s time I go.”

With that, Ianna hoisted her bundle and walked out of the quarters of the High Priestess of Ishtar for the last time. She never looked back.

Lll

A knock on the door startled Hannah from her thoughts. She sat on her sleep mat, not having moved from her niche since she awoke earlier that morning. Her head ached over the loss of Jonah. She was furious with him when she discovered his true feelings concerning Nineveh and angry with herself for how she still felt about him. She still hadn’t decided whether to return to the hill east of the city. His promise not to leave, even to die, if she did not return, ate at her. It wasn’t fair to put her in that position. She felt manipulated but struggled with the knowledge that the manipulation was born of love, not power. He said he had more to tell her, that there was more to the story. What more could there be? He hated her city, her people. How could he love her? Yet she knew he did.

The rap at the door came again.

Hannah rose and went into the front room. She opened the door to find Hulalitu on the threshold. The
naditu
wore a plain robe; the blue tunic was absent.

“Hulalitu, what are you doing here?”

The priestess looked down, clearly distressed.

“I’m sorry. Please, come in.” Hannah moved aside.

Hulalitu stepped into the room and turned toward Hannah. Her eyes filled with tears. “I have a message for you.”

Lll

Hiram smiled at the couple as they stood under a makeshift canopy in the palace garden. Rizpah stood behind him and dabbed at her eyes. Jamin and Hannah faced each other. A white cloth signifying their union bound her hand to his. The ceremony had just completed, and silence reigned in the presence of the Almighty God and the elders who gathered as witnesses.

There would be no week-long celebration, no dancing, nothing on which to feast. The couple would retire to the palace, the attendants return home. But their joy was complete in each other and in their God. Neither knew what this season of their lives would bring, but neither could have been happier.

“What is happening in the city, Uncle? I have been out of communication it seems forever, although it’s only been two days.”

Jamin stood in the dim antechamber of the palace. Rizpah had accompanied Ianna to the bedchamber to help prepare her for her husband. She had left strict instructions for Jamin to wait until she came for him.

Hiram’s face lit up. “The people receive the message well from the elders and follow their example in repentance.” Then his countenance fell. “But word travels slowly, and decisions are made even more slowly. I’m still fearful we’ll run out of time before the whole city has been reached.”

Jamin dipped his head in thought. “Is there anything I can do?”

His uncle shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think of it, but you are the king now, for all intent.”

Jamin nodded. “I’m still unsure of my authority, but I’ll never know where it lies until I test it. The royal official from Kal
ḫ
u
left early this morning without a word. There is no one to ask.”

Hiram raised his eyebrows. “An edict, perhaps?”

Jamin snapped his fingers. “Of course! A proclamation from the king. Nineveh is the only city affected, so word may not even get back to Kal
ḫ
u
until all has been accomplished.”