Return to Me Page 11

  “They may reclaim nothing until we’ve received word that what you’re saying is true!” the leader shouted, and the mob behind him responded with such a terrifying cry, waving their swords and scythes above their heads, that Zaki was certain they would surge forward and attack.

  “We will not take any of your land,” Sheshbazzar shouted above the noise. “Only what’s rightfully ours. But we cannot wait to begin building. We must obey our God, not your threats.” The angry response reached an insane pitch as the prince turned his back on the men and walked away with the elders. Zechariah wanted to run—he and Saba were unarmed! The Samaritans could easily wade across the shallow creek.

  “Let’s go eat our breakfast,” Saba said, turning his back, as well.

  “But, Saba—”

  “The Almighty One is on our side. Do you believe that, Zaki?”

  He didn’t reply. Any faith Zechariah possessed came secondhand from stories in the Torah, not real life. He glanced over his shoulder at the shouting mob as he followed his grandfather and Mattaniah back to their tents.

  “So the opposition has started already,” Mattaniah said as they walked. “I wondered if it would. Do you think we should be worried? Will we have to fight them?”

  “The Samaritans will find out soon enough that our claims are legitimate. In the meantime we can trust God.”

  “I was hoping that the local people would be friendly,” Mattaniah said, “so we could work alongside them.”

  Saba shook his head. “We would be wise to keep our distance from them and trust no one.” He halted before they reached their tent. “Let’s not talk about this with the women and worry them unnecessarily.”

  “But our families are very vulnerable living in tents in this unprotected valley,” Mattaniah said. “And the Persian guards will be heading back to Babylon soon. We’d better start building homes higher up on the ridge right away.”

  “The temple must come first. The very first thing that God commanded our ancestors to do after leaving Egypt was to build His sanctuary. The people camped below Mount Sinai in tents until it was finished. Building His sanctuary must be our top priority, too.”

  Zechariah hurried through breakfast and his morning prayers, looking over his shoulder, expecting the Samaritans to attack any minute. When they didn’t, he worried that they might come at night, while everyone slept. Then, for the second time that morning, Saba surprised him when he invited him to survey the temple mount with him and the chief priests.

  As usual, Saba walked too slowly. Zechariah raced up the ramp that led into Jerusalem ahead of his grandfather, then stopped to wait for him near the top. He could see the caravan sprawled out, without protection, in the valley below, and he also noticed the scattered Samaritan settlements dotting the Kidron Valley and perched on the slopes of the Mount of Olives. Workers resembled tiny ants as they tended their vines and groves on the terraced hillsides. The olives would be ready to harvest soon, the dates and figs in another month. The sight of those Samaritan villages made Zechariah uneasy. The men had been so angry this morning, insisting that this was their land.

  Saba soon caught up with him, and they continued to climb until they reached a pile of ruins below the temple mount, swarming with men and even a handful of Persian soldiers. “Why all the activity around here?” Saba asked the others. “What’s going on?”

  “This is where the palace once stood,” the high priest replied. “Sheshbazzar and Zerubbabel were looking through the rubble and found an underground storehouse. We’ve decided to use it as a treasury to store the temple vessels and other supplies. Can you come back and help us, Iddo? We’ll need you to record the transfer of all the silver and gold from the Persian guards.”

  “Yes, of course I will.”

  Saba and the other chief priests assembled outside the palace, then made their way to the stairs that led to the top of the mount. The ascent was harder than Zechariah had anticipated, the steps broken and slanted and clogged with stones, but he arrived on top at last, winded from the steep climb. On the wide, flat plateau that had once been the threshing floor of Aranau the Jebusite before it became the temple mount, barely a square foot of land could be found that wasn’t covered with debris and weeds. The tumbled building stones were too huge to climb over, so Saba and the other men could only walk forward a short distance. Scrub trees and scraggly cedars and thorn bushes grew among the rocks.

  “This can’t be right,” Saba said. “How could the temple mount have trees growing on it? I don’t remember seeing trees.”

  “Nearly fifty years have passed since the temple was destroyed,” his friend Joel reminded him. “Fifty years is plenty of time for saplings to sprout between the ruptured paving stones and grow into trees.”

  Zechariah tugged his grandfather’s sleeve to get his attention. “Saba, isn’t this the place where Abraham offered to sacrifice Isaac before there was a temple?”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “Well, there must have been trees when Abraham was here. And bushes, too. Didn’t he find a ram caught by his horns in a thicket?”

  “Ah, yes. You’re right.” Saba smiled as he rested his hand on Zaki’s shoulder. “You’re a very clever boy. And you remember your Torah, that’s good.”

  “At least there’s no shortage of building stones in Jerusalem,” Joel said. “But it’s going to take a trememdous amount of work to clear this plateau.”

  “Our first task is to find the site where the bronze altar stood,” Saba said. “It’s where Abraham’s sacrifice also took place. Once we rebuild the altar, we can offer the daily sacrifices again.”

  “I think we’ll have to wait until the Samaritans simmer down before we rebuild anything,” Joel said.

  Saba turned on him. “No, Joel! We dare not wait a single day! If we want God’s guidance and help, we must ask for our sins to be forgiven through the sacrifices.” He strode off to work with the other priests, moving stones to make way for the altar. Zechariah had plenty of time to think as he helped pull weeds from between the cracks and clear away some of the smaller rocks. He wondered when the Almighty One would speak to him again and tell him what he was supposed to do next. The God of Abraham had won the tug-of-war between Zechariah’s father and grandfather, proving that He was real by providing a second exodus from slavery. But the threat from their enemies that Zechariah had witnessed this morning and the enormous amount of rubble piled in front of him made him question his role in the Almighty One’s plan.

  Late that afternoon, they retraced their steps to their campsite in the valley, hot, weary, and thirsty from the day’s work. Apart from a few mounds of gathered brush and some shifted stones, the temple mount looked little different from before. “Our job is going to be really hard, isn’t it, Saba?”

  “The Almighty One brought us back to our land, but we still have to do our part to conquer it, just like our ancestors did under Joshua. Our task is to build His temple, and the Holy One’s enemies will do everything they can to try to stop us.”

  “Like they did this morning?”

  Saba nodded. “Each obstacle we face is like an ancient Canaanite king who needs to be defeated, or a walled city like Jericho that we need to tear down. You and I and the others have already conquered the first strongholds by choosing to leave the comfort of Babylon and the pull of family ties and by turning our backs on its paganism.”

  Zechariah remembered Yael’s entanglement with sorcery and looked away. The guilt of her secrets felt like his own. They soon reached the ruined Water Gate and headed down the ramp toward their camp.

  “Will we let all these obstacles stop us?” Saba continued. “Or allow the hard work of rebuilding to discourage us?”

  “No, Saba.” He smiled as he imagined himself as part of Judah’s army, going into battle, defeating their enemies. Or commanding teams of oxen as they hauled building stones into place for God’s temple. “What’s my job going to be from now on, Saba?”

  “Your job is
to study the Torah.”

  “What?” Zechariah halted. He must have misunderstood. “But . . . but that’s what I did back in Babylon. I want to be a soldier and learn how to fight. And I want to help rebuild the temple.”

  “The way we conquer our enemies is by obeying God’s Word. When Joshua obeyed, the walls of Jericho fell down. But how can we obey if we don’t know what God’s Word says? That’s your job, Zechariah—to learn what it says.”

  Zechariah couldn’t believe it. He would spend his days in this new land studying the Torah? Not learning how to use a sword or how to build, but studying? He couldn’t disguise his disappointment as they started walking again. So far, his return to Jerusalem wasn’t at all like he had imagined.

  Chapter

  12

  The screams startled Yael awake. She sat up, clutching her blanket, her heart pounding. Should she run? Hide? Had the Samaritans attacked? The terrifying cries came from the tent right beside hers—from Zaki’s grandfather. Abba leaped out of bed to go see what was wrong, and so did everyone around them, it seemed. Yael heard the mumble of voices as Iddo reassured everyone that he was fine and sent them back to their beds.

  “He had a nightmare,” Abba said when he returned a few minutes later. “Go back to sleep, Yael.” He lay down again.

  It seemed like a long time passed before Yael’s heart stopped pounding. Her skin still had a funny, tingling feeling from being frightened half to death, as if ants were crawling all over her. As the camp settled down again, she could hear Iddo and Dinah talking softly. “All the way here, three long months of traveling and I never had a single nightmare,” Iddo said. “I’m so ashamed . . . I-I don’t understand it.”

  “There’s no reason to feel ashamed. This is where your real nightmare happened. I’m sure the others realize that.”

  “I thought the dreams were gone for good.”

  “Maybe this will be the last one now that you’ve returned and faced what happened in the past.”

  “Or maybe God is punishing me with these nightmares because of all the mistakes I’ve made.”

  “Go to sleep, Iddo.”

  “I can’t. I may as well get up.”

  Yael heard shuffling as he left his tent. She couldn’t fall asleep, either, and she lay on her back, staring at the dark tent hovering above her head. One edge of the animal-skin covering was attached to their cart, the other to poles, with the excess hide hanging down to form sides that reached to the ground. Abba slept close to the cart, but Yael liked to sleep near the open side of the tent. She inched over to it, trying not to make too much noise, dragging her blanket with her for warmth. Maybe if she lifted the covering she would be able to see the stars.

  The hide had the strong odor of animals and stank nearly as bad as the donkey that had pulled their cart. She managed to lift a flap of the heavy skin and look up at a small patch of star-flecked sky and the brilliant full moon that illuminated the roofs of the other huddled tents. Parthia had taught Yael about the phases of the moon and said that people could be “moonstruck” or even become “lunatics” during a full moon. Was that what had happened to Zaki’s grandfather? He didn’t believe in the moon goddess and refused to worship her, so maybe the nightmare was her punishment. Yael wondered when Iddo’s birthday was. If the moon was rising in his star sign, that could cause even more trouble. Or maybe the dream was a warning to him. Parthia said the gods spoke through dreams.

  Yael inched a little farther outside the tent. How beautiful the stars looked tonight! She knew how to read some of their mysteries and secrets, but she longed to know all of them. “The heavenly bodies and celestial events all have powerful effects on what happens to us on earth,” Parthia had said. And all of that information could be found on the star charts she had given her. Using pictures and symbols, the charts showed the lunar months and the sign of the zodiac that was dominant each month. Before Abba had decided to move to Jerusalem, Parthia had taught Yael how to locate the signs of the zodiac in the night sky. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the soft tinkling of Parthia’s jewelry, the sweet smell of her incense.

  “Once you learn to read the charts,” Parthia said, “you can warn people of trouble ahead or advise them of the best times to pursue love or financial success.”

  Yael glanced over at Abba. He had rolled onto his side, facing away from her, and she could tell by his soft snoring that he had fallen asleep. She sat up, the tent roof skimming the top of her head, and reached for her bag, the one she had packed to take to Parthia’s house when she’d run away to live with her. Good thing Abba hadn’t looked inside it or taken it away from her when he’d dragged her here. Yael pulled the bag close and quietly rummaged inside until she found the charts. Then she felt around for something else—the little stone figurine of the moon goddess that Parthia had given her. It was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, and it felt comforting, somehow, when she gripped the smooth, polished stone figure in her fist. “Hold it tightly whenever you are afraid or in danger,” Parthia had told her. “And someday when you’re giving birth to a child of your own, she will protect you.” Yael studied the little naked figurine in the dim light, then tucked it back inside the bag. It would have to stay hidden for now.

  She inched toward the opening again, carrying the star charts. She lifted the tent flap to stick her head out, then pulled the moonstone amulet from beneath her dress. The smooth white stone looked as radiant and luminous as the real moon. She wished she could wear it on the outside of her clothing, but she was afraid that Iddo or Zechariah would see it and ask questions. Safta Dinah had noticed it once when Yael was bathing but Yael had lied and said that the necklace had been a gift from her mother.

  The scroll made a crinkling sound as she unrolled it. Yael glanced at Abba again. He was still asleep. He probably wouldn’t care what she did—after all, he had consulted Parthia and other Babylonian seers when Mama was sick. But now that he had moved back to Jerusalem, maybe he didn’t believe in them anymore. Yael couldn’t take that chance.

  She looked down at the open chart, hoping that the moon would give enough light to read it. But the light was still too dim, the tiny figures on the scroll too small, even when she held the parchment close to her eyes or tilted it toward the moon’s light. It was the month of Ab, which meant that the constellation of the lion was dominant in the sky. She heard movement in the next tent, but before she could hide the charts again, Zaki poked his head out from beneath the flap.

  “Yael? . . . What are you doing?” he whispered.

  “Nothing.” The scrolls rustled like dry leaves as she quickly rolled them up again. Zaki moved toward her on his hands and knees.

  “Are you doing sorcery or something?”

  “No—I’m just looking at the stars, that’s all.”

  “What are the scrolls for?”

  She sighed, wondering if she could trust him. “They help me figure out what the stars are saying.”

  He moved closer and lowered his voice even more. “If they catch you doing those things here, you know what the punishment will be? Death! The Torah says to stone a sorceress to death!”

  Her heart beat a little faster. Was he telling the truth? “You can’t tell anyone, Zaki. You promised.” She shoved the charts into her bag again and pushed it beneath the tent flap.

  “You have to get rid of those scrolls before someone catches you.”

  “No, I don’t. They’re mine. I need them.” She would never be able to explain how much she longed for guidance in this strange new place. Ever since Mama died, her life had felt so uncertain, like being tossed around in the back of a runaway cart with nothing solid to hang on to. The stars remained the same no matter where she traveled. “Good night, Zaki.”

  Yael ducked beneath her tent and lay down again, but she was still too restless to sleep. When she heard Zaki settle down in his tent, she lifted the flap and poked her head out one more time to look up. A falling star streaked across the sky and she made
a wish on it, wishing for a new friend now that Zaki was so bossy.

  The most important star, the one that all of the others circled around, shone brightly above her. Parthia had taught her how to find it by looking at the constellation that resembled a huge dipping gourd. The morning star was an important one, too, but it hadn’t risen above the horizon yet—or else the mountains across the valley blocked it from sight. The longer Yael looked at the sky, the more stars began to appear, as if they’d been hiding behind their mother’s skirts like shy children. Soon the heavens were white with them. How beautiful they were, holding secrets she longed to discover.

  At last her eyes grew tired, and she rolled back inside the tent and tucked her moonstone amulet inside her tunic again. She would have to find a way to grab a few moments to herself during the day so she could study the charts without being seen. Then she could find the constellations more easily at night. Someday she would know all of the stars’ secrets.

  Wrapped in her blanket, Yael finally drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter

  13

  Iddo didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, his mind racing back and forth like a weaver’s shuttle between the ghosts of his past that haunted the ruins of Jerusalem and excitement for a future he never dreamed he would see. The nightmare left him badly shaken. Why had the dreams started again after so many months without one?

  At breakfast, his hands still shook, and he nearly spilled the bowl of roasted grain as he reached to take it from Dinah. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked, steadying it for him. “Your face is as white as your beard. The circles under your eyes look like bruises.”

  “Thank you for that fine description. Now I have no need of a mirror.”

  “Iddo, no one will mind if you stay here and rest today. You’ve barely slept for two nights and—”

  “You don’t need to remind me or anyone else about my nightmares.” Wasn’t it bad enough that he had awakened half the campsite with his screaming last night? Why remind everyone of his weakness as they sat together, eating?