The Well Page 14

  Shem bent over her. “What is it?” His arms and legs tensed. Could Roman soldiers be in the village, searching for him? He checked down the hill. The olive groves and barley fields lay silent and empty. Apart from Mechola’s wheezing, he heard only birdsong and chirping insects.

  “It’s Nava.”

  “What happened?” Abahu and Shem asked in unison.

  “I heard from Adah—and I think it’s true—I heard that the priests are calling a trial. For adultery.”

  A trial? Shem had told Abahu about the informer and Zevulun. Abahu had agreed that they would need proof. “But they must have some proof to convict her. Did you hear anything about evidence?”

  “I don’t know. But Adah said . . .” Mechola grimaced. “She said that the priests were going to—well, I can hardly believe it.” She shook her head.

  “What?” Shem closed his hand over his grandmother’s soft shoulder.

  “Adah seems to think they are going to give her the bitter water test.”

  “What?” Shem jerked upright. “That is absurd! That test hasn’t been used for a hundred years!”

  Abahu shook his head. “Perhaps not in Caesarea, but here it is used still. I’ve seen it twice in my lifetime, but I’ve never seen it prove the innocence of a woman, only guilt.”

  “I haven’t seen Nava since the day before yesterday, at the well.” Mechola wiped her damp forehead with her sleeve. “Adah said that the priests sent a messenger to her, commanding that she come to answer for her sins. Midday at the synagogue.”

  “But I haven’t heard of a trial.” Abahu ran his hand over his gray beard. “They would have called us—all the men of the village—to hear the evidence.”

  “Perhaps,” said Shem. “Unless they weren’t interested in justice—only punishment. Or they have called only those who will agree with Zevulun.”

  For a moment, only the saplings rustled in the breeze, and the dry leaves whispered on the hillside. Abahu turned to Shem. “We must help her. If the Taheb doesn’t hold her sins against her, neither can we.”

  Shem looked at the sun, which was already well above the eastern horizon. I don’t care what the so-called Taheb said. I just know Mara needs help. “We don’t have much time.”

  “I’ll get Uziel,” Abahu said, helping Mechola to her feet. “We’ll find as many men as we can. If we have enough, we can stop the test. Zevulun doesn’t have as much support as he thinks, but we’ll need every friend we can get.”

  “You can count on me. And my father and brothers.”

  Shem started at the sound of Enosh’s deep voice. He thumped the quiet youth on the back. He was old enough to lend his voice. They would need their friends’ support, but they would need more than that. Zevulun was cunning; they needed the law on their side.

  Abahu turned to go down the hill and motioned for Enosh and Shem to follow.

  “Grandfather,” Shem said.

  Abahu turned back.

  “I know the law. If I could talk to Mara’s—to Nava—I could speak to her, prepare her. It might go better for her if she knows what to say.”

  “Yes.” Abahu nodded decisively. He looked to Mechola. “Go with him to Nava. Quickly now. Talk to her. We’ll meet you at the synagogue.”

  • • •

  “Mara, I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well today.” Nava sat at the loom, but her hands lay limp in her lap. “Would you mind gleaning the barley while I stay here with Asher?”

  “Of course, Mama.” Mara wondered at her mother’s strange tone. Mara had done the gleaning by herself for many seasons while her mother was ill. In the days since Alexandros’s attack, Nava had been very quiet. Mara pounded the measure of grain one last time. That should be enough for their bread today.

  Mara took up a large basket. They would need as much barley as they could gather for the long months ahead. She kissed the top of Asher’s head. “Take care of Mama today.” As soon as the familiar words left her mouth, she regretted them. Since Alexandros’s visit, Asher had watched over Nava like a Roman guard. He had stopped sucking his thumb and abandoned his toys. He crawled across the floor, his face set in a determined frown, and stationed himself at Nava’s feet.

  To her mother, she said, “Try to rest. The weaving will wait.” She turned to leave, but Nava caught her arm and pulled Mara close. She held her in a long embrace, squeezing her tightly. Mara leaned back and looked hard at her mother.

  “Don’t worry about me; I’m just being foolish.” Nava laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. “I do love you so much, Mara.”

  Mara frowned. Why is her smile so forced? “Are you sure? Maybe I should stay?” She brushed her fingers over the purple and green bruise high on Nava’s cheek.

  “No, we need the barley. Don’t mind me. Now go, and fill your water skin at the well as you pass. It will be hot today.”

  Mara trudged up the path. Nava didn’t seem ill, not like before. She would almost say that Nava was hiding something from her. She shook her head. Her mother was fine; she was well again. There was nothing to worry about.

  The barley field lay on the eastern end of Sychar, a long walk. She quickened her steps. If she was fast and the gleaning was good, she could get home by early afternoon. Please, Lord, send your angels to keep watch over them.

  As she neared the village, she raised her eyes from the path to see Shem and his grandmother walking toward her. As always, a rush of heat flooded her face when she saw Mechola’s grandson.

  Mechola stopped in front of her. “Why, Mara, where are you going?”

  “I’m going to the barley field to glean.” Mara tipped the basket toward the older woman. What a strange question.

  Mechola cast a sideways glance at Shem, who raised his eyebrows and shook his head. Mechola fluttered her hands in Mara’s direction and leaned toward her. “Forgive me, my girl. It’s just so very hot to be working in the fields. Is your mother gleaning with you today?”

  “No . . .” Mara said. Why is Shem looking at me like that? She focused on her dirty bare feet, flustered by his dark eyes. “No, it’s a long walk—the field is a long walk, and she isn’t . . . isn’t feeling well.” I sound like an idiot.

  Shem took his grandmother’s arm and pulled her gently. “We should let Mara get to the fields, Grandmother, before it gets even hotter.” He prodded Mechola again, and they hurried away. As Mara watched them go, she saw Mechola peer back over her shoulder, her brow furrowed like a newly planted field.

  Where are they going? Surely not to her house. Maybe to one of the olive groves. The odd meeting only increased the tightness in her chest.

  • • •

  Shem and Mechola walked past the olive groves and up the hill. A lizard skittered away from his foot and rustled into the dry grass. Mara was going to glean barley instead of to her mother’s trial.

  “She doesn’t know,” his grandmother said.

  “It’s better this way,” Shem answered. Mara would be spared the humiliation of the trial. If it went well, she would be glad; if it went badly . . . well, at least she wouldn’t be there to see it. But she would be angry.

  It was his fault that Nava was in this mess. If he hadn’t been so stupid . . . At least he could keep Mara out of it. At least he could do that for her.

  Cresting the hill, he saw Nava sitting on a bench outside the little house below, holding Asher in her lap. His squeal of delight floated up the hill along with Nava’s low laugh. Shem and Mechola trudged down the path and into the valley.

  Nava fell silent when she saw them heading toward the house. Her smile faded as they passed the cooking fire, and she stood, settling Asher on her hip. Asher stared at Shem with wary eyes.

  How beautiful she was, this older version of Mara. Then Shem saw the dark bruise under her eye. His hands clenched into fists. Who had done that?

  “Good morning, Nava,” Mechola said. “You know my grandson, Shem.”

  Nava nodded politely. He bowed his head in return.

  “We
are here to help, Nava,” Mechola said simply. “Abahu is gathering men who will be fair and just at the trial. We will go with you and stand by you, no matter what happens.”

  Nava swayed, her face crumpled. Shem stepped forward and took Asher from her arms. She covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t think—I wasn’t sure I could do it alone.”

  The birds twittered in the tall cedars. Asher pushed away from Shem. Shem hitched him higher. The boy was heavy. How did Mara carry him all over the village?

  Nava dried her eyes with her rough sleeve. “I sent Mara away. She has been through enough.”

  Mechola nodded. “Yes, we met her on the path. We didn’t tell her.” She motioned for Nava to sit. The sun had climbed high; they didn’t have much time.

  Mechola sat down next to Nava, and Shem settled Asher in his grandmother’s arms. He crouched in front of Nava, meeting her worried green eyes, so much like Mara’s that his heart beat faster.

  “What did the priest’s messenger say?”

  Nava jumped at his voice. She was frightened, and with good reason. He tried more gently. “Please, Nava. I need to know his exact words.”

  Nava took a deep breath. “He came yesterday. Mara wasn’t here. It was the servant of Jonothon.” She thought for a moment. “He said, ‘Jonothon orders you to the synagogue tomorrow at midday. You are charged with the sin of adultery.’”

  “Nothing else?”

  She shook her head.

  “He didn’t name your accuser?”

  “No,” she said. “But . . . wouldn’t it have to be Shaul? We are still married, even if he has been gone since Asher was a baby. He never actually divorced me.”

  Shem frowned. “They would need the testimony of two witnesses. Would they be able to find two witnesses?” he asked as gently as he could.

  “I . . . I don’t think so,” she stammered, dropping her gaze to the ground. Her face turned red.

  Mechola scooted over and put her arm around Nava’s thin shoulders. “He is trying to help. Don’t be afraid, my dear.”

  “But you know . . .” Nava swallowed. “You know that I am guilty?”

  Shem regarded the beautiful, sorrowful woman in front of him. Here was why Zevulun had hired the informer to find Shaul. This was serious. “That will be hard for them to prove,” he said with more certainty than he felt.

  • • •

  The sun had reached its zenith. A hot wind from the east swept dust into Shem’s eyes and dried his mouth as he walked up the Holy Mountain. “Be respectful, but do not admit to any sin,” he told Nava. He carried Asher easily on his shoulder, adjusting his long strides to keep pace with Nava and his wheezing grandmother. “Be respectful, no matter what they do. Or what they say.” He slanted her a glance, thinking of her outburst at Passover.

  Nava lowered her head. “I understand.”

  Shem stopped walking and turned to Nava. “This is important. We must hope that they do the bitter water test. If they do, you will go free.”

  Nava’s face froze. She looked terrified. She shook her head. “No. I won’t.”

  “Yes. Believe me.” Shem reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “Just drink the water. It will taste bad, but that is all. They say that if you are guilty, the water will hurt you. But it is just used to frighten a guilty woman. Drink it. Nothing will happen, even if you are guilty.” She needed to trust him on this. He gripped her shoulder hard. “The worst thing you can do is refuse to drink it. That is an admission of guilt.”

  Nava bit her lip and stepped back from him. “Wouldn’t Shaul—wouldn’t my husband have to agree to my punishment?”

  “Yes,” Shem answered. “That’s why Zevulun went to such trouble to find him.”

  Nava shook her head. “I can’t believe that Shaul would agree to . . .” She glanced at Asher. “He wouldn’t do that to me or to Asher.”

  “I hope we don’t have to find out.”

  A crowd had already gathered outside the synagogue. Shem directed his grandmother to a shady spot under a cedar tree. He settled Asher on the soft carpet of needles.

  Nava crouched down and stroked her son’s soft face. “Asher, stay here,” she said softly. “Mama will be gone for a little while.”

  Mechola patted his shoulder. “He’ll be fine. We will sit in the shade and wait for you to come back to us.” The old woman put her arms around Nava’s shoulders and pulled her close. “May the Lord be with you.”

  Shem gave Mechola what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It felt forced and unnatural.

  They couldn’t convict Nava without two witnesses—it was the law. If they did find two people who would swear that Nava had committed adultery, then they could drive her from Sychar. But only if enough men agreed to the punishment. Abahu would make sure that didn’t happen. There weren’t enough men in this village who would follow Zevulun’s lead.

  And stoning? It couldn’t happen. Roman law forbade the death penalty without permission from the local governor. Everyone knew that. Even Zevulun wouldn’t go that far.

  He whispered to Nava, “Don’t worry. Just drink the water.”

  Chapter 17

  Zevulun swaggered toward them, dressed in a finely embroidered robe, his jowls swaying. He pointed a fat finger at Nava. “There she is! Now you will answer for yourself, disgraceful woman.”

  “Let us take this to the priests,” Shem said. His voice came out strong and firm. The big man narrowed his eyes and looked from Shem’s face to his rough tunic and farmer sandals, then turned and stalked toward the crowd.

  Nava stood rooted to the earth, her face pale. She pointed weakly at a big Canaanite in the center of the crowd. Her hand went to her bruised eye. “Alexandros,” she whispered.

  Shem tightened his fist at his side. Had the pagan done this to her?

  “And there is my husband, Shaul.” Her eyes rested on a man standing apart from the others. Short and barrel-chested with a large, square head and heavy brow, he had the air of one who worked hard and drank harder. His attention was on Nava, his thick arms crossed over his chest.

  Energy charged through Shem’s veins. He would protect her. Zevulun may have been waiting for his chance, but it had been Shem—his own thoughtless words—who had brought Nava to this. He lifted his chin and motioned for Nava to follow him into the synagogue.

  The sanctuary swarmed with men, but who were they? A few he recognized from Sychar, but the rest were strangers dressed in rough workmen’s clothes. These were not the merchants and farmers of Sychar but what looked like stonemasons and builders from Sebaste.

  One scarred face was familiar to Shem. It was the informer, the one who had spoken to Zevulun in the toolshed. He darted from one man to another, whispering to them and encouraging the taunts and leers as Nava passed by.

  Nava moved closer to Shem. “So many . . .”

  Shem caught sight of his grandfather standing with Noach, Enosh, and his brothers. Uziel stood at the front of the room, stretching to see over the crowd. At least they had some friends here. But not enough. He sent his grandfather a questioning glance. Were these the only men who would stand for Nava?

  Abahu returned a worried look. There were at least thirty strangers gathering around Zevulun and Shimon. Where had they all come from?

  Had Zevulun brought in men from outside Sychar, promising them . . . what? A spectacle? One thing was certain; they weren’t there to help Nava. Some spit at her as she walked past. Others muttered insults. Nava shrank away from them, her hands shaking as she pulled her mantle around her face.

  Shem and Nava reached the dais where the priests stood. Yahokeem demanded quiet, and the angry buzz of voices died away. Nava swayed slightly beside Shem. She was the only woman in the room.

  Yahokeem raised trembling arms. “Let us put on fear of him before we speak of him. Let us search for the truth and learn wisdom, that no apostasy will be found in us. Let us attend to the truth and trust in him, our Lord and Maker.”

  The men answered in u
nison. “He is God, and there is none beside him.”

  Yahokeem leaned heavily on Jonothon’s arm. “The charge is adultery. Who brings forth this woman for trial?”

  “I do.” Shaul stepped forward. In his hand he held the cereal offering.

  “How do you know this woman?”

  “I am her husband.” Shaul’s voice broke. He looked not at Nava’s stricken face but at Zevulun. Zevulun scowled and nodded, jabbing his finger toward Nava. Shimon stood by him, urging on the angry men.

  “Are there any witnesses to her sin?” asked the priest.

  “Yes, I am a witness,” Alexandros said, too loudly, as if he’d been coached. “This is the whore who enticed me to her bed only a few weeks ago. And I doubt I’m the only one.” His thin lips dipped down at the corners, as if he were trying to hide a smile. Shem’s pulse hammered in his ears, and his fists ached to wipe the sneer off the pagan dog’s face.

  Zevulun stepped forward, his face triumphant. “There is your proof. What more do you need? She is guilty of adultery. Let us now decide her punishment.”

  Shem couldn’t believe his ears. Decide her punishment? They hadn’t even proven her guilt. This was no trial. These rough, agitated men clearly had no interest in justice. He raised his hand to the crowd. “Wait! Is this how you conduct a trial in Sychar?”

  Zevulun turned on him. “And who are you to speak in defense of this woman?”

  Abahu pushed toward the dais, tall and erect. He ignored Zevulun and directed his words to the priests. “He is my grandson and lives in Sychar. He knows our laws. Zevulun,” he added with a look of disdain, “why are you leading this trial? You are not the wronged husband.” He towered over the now-speechless Zevulun. “Let Shaul speak against Nava, if he will. Shem will speak for her. You have done enough for today.”

  Zevulun’s face turned scarlet. He turned to the crowd of men and bellowed. “I only seek the Lord’s will. If this woman has sinned, the Lord will see her punished. If she is forgiven, he will save her.” He lowered his voice and inclined his head to the priests. “Let the Lord’s will be done.”

  As Zevulun stepped back from the dias, the crowd settled, and Yahokeem motioned for Shem to continue.