The Well Page 9

  “It is a good marriage for you, Mara.”

  “What about Mama? And Asher?”

  Uziel dropped his gaze to the floor. “He doesn’t want them in his home. He won’t take them.”

  Mara’s chest tightened into a hard knot. She couldn’t leave them. They would never make it without her. “I can’t leave them. They’ll never—”

  “He did offer a solution.” Uziel’s mouth turned down like he didn’t want to go on.

  “What is it?” How much worse could this get?

  “He suggested that instead of a bride price, he would agree to provide your mother and Asher with food and oil. As much as they need. For as long as you are married.”

  No bride price? The dishonor would be known in the village before the betrothal vows were out of their mouths. Her face burned, and her mouth felt like it was filled with ash. “You can’t . . . the priests . . . Can he do that?”

  Uziel nodded, but his cheeks bore two bright spots of red. “He doesn’t have it. His marriage to Dara was only two years ago. And he is anxious to wed soon. He thought that if we knew your mother and brother would be taken care of, we would agree.”

  The price of their lives was every shred of her dignity. And how would he treat a wife that he had paid for in bread and oil? Better than he had treated Dara, or the wife before her? What if she didn’t bear him a son? Would he still feed her mother and brother?

  “Mara.” Uziel reached out and took Mara’s hands. His were small and creased with deep lines. “I want you to think about it. It is my duty to think about your future. And now, with the rumors of your mother . . .”

  Rumors of Mama and Alexandros? Is that what he means?

  “I must think of your future and my own family as well.” He squeezed her fingers. “Ruth is with child again.”

  Mara’s heart jumped at the news. “That is wonderful. I didn’t know.” It was wonderful news. But also another mouth to feed, and they barely had enough as it was.

  “Yes, it is. But we must all do what we have to do. And marriage is what the Almighty calls us to.” He pulled his hands away and picked up the mattock blade and handle. “No one knows of this. Not even your aunt. You will consider Jobab’s offer. And I will pray about it. He has asked for a decision one month after Passover. If that time comes and there is no good reason to refuse him, then you will be betrothed. I’ll insist on a betrothal period of a full year.”

  A chill crawled down Mara’s neck. “Thank you, Uncle.” She stepped out of the cool shop and into the late-afternoon heat. One month. It might as well be tomorrow. Nothing would happen in one month that would change Uziel’s mind.

  Chapter 10

  The thirteenth day of Nisan dawned clear and warm, the sky a brilliant blue. It was a good day to celebrate the Passover.

  Mara carried Asher to the mikvah for the required cleansing before the feast. Rough stone steps led to a dark cave cut into the hillside just past the olive groves on Mount Ebal. A well of pure, sweet rainwater lapped at the lowest step. Asher grimaced as he dipped into the cold water, then disappeared into the dark to wash.

  A few women and children waited impatiently at the top of the steps for their turn; they did not speak to her. She had sensed a change in the village since yesterday. Turned backs and whispers. No one met her eyes. They must know about Alexandros. But how could they? He had been gone before the first light of day. Unless he told them himself. A bitter taste filled her mouth as she imagined the man boasting about his conquest in the marketplace.

  Mara had not looked at or spoken to her mother at all yesterday, nor today. In fact, she had treated Nava much the way these women were treating her. She didn’t know what else to do.

  It was Nava’s fault that she had to marry Jobab. That she would have to leave Asher. How would he manage without her? Would Nava get up and get water—make food—if she were gone? She tried not to think of the grizzled old man who would be her husband. Or Dara’s frightened face in the marketplace just days before she died. What kind of woman gave herself in marriage without a bride price? Only a desperate one. And Jobab knew she was desperate.

  Mara dreaded gathering with all of Sychar on the slopes of Mount Gerizim for Passover. She would surely see Jobab. How should she act? And what if she saw Shem? By now he would know all about them and why she had been hiding in the trees that night.

  Asher came out of the dark, dripping and clean. Mara entered the dark coolness of the mikvah. If only the water could take away the stain of her mother’s sin. Too soon, she was done. Asher climbed on Mara’s back. She bent almost double with his weight as she started the long walk to the Holy Mountain.

  At the bottom of Mount Ebal, they joined the crowd making its way to the altar of sacrifice on Mount Gerizim. The entire village would celebrate through the night and the next day. Then the men would live on the mountain for the week of Massot, eating unleavened bread and making offerings to the Lord.

  Before she started the long climb up Gerizim, she crouched down, letting Asher slide off her back. She needed to catch her breath. If they do know about Nava, they can’t do anything about it until after Massot. Maybe . . . maybe in a week they’ll forget.

  Villagers passed by carrying food, tent poles, and water jars.

  She bent her back and said to Asher, “Climb up, my sweet.”

  Instead of feeling his heavy weight on her back, she heard Asher squeal in delight. She twisted to see Enosh, silent as always, swinging her brother into his arms. He was even taller than the last time she’d seen him, when he’d taken her goats for shearing. Would he ever stop growing? It seemed like just last summer they had been children—she teasing him about his long eyelashes, he chasing her around the well as their mothers drew water.

  She managed to smile—his dark lashes still reminded her of a she-goat. Enosh said nothing, but a flicker of a smile crossed his angular face as he settled Asher on his shoulder like a lamb.

  Mara kept her eyes on Enosh’s long back as they passed the synagogue and reached a wide, almost level stretch of ground behind the stone building. Cedar trees stretched high above, and their needles carpeted the open ground and scented the air. The dull thump of hammers sounded against wooden stakes as families erected three-sided tents for the feast.

  Enosh marched ahead, looking at no one, to the spot where Uziel and her cousin Yoseph were raising a tent. Ruth unpacked baskets of food. Enosh set Asher near them, making sure he was comfortable. His cheeks were red beneath his thin beard, and his light eyes met hers for a moment before he slipped away through the crowd.

  The chatter around them dropped to whispers. In the nearest tent, Amram and his father sat on thick cushions while servants bustled around them. Tirzah stopped what she was doing to stare at Mara. One tent over, Adah pointed to her and whispered in Rivkah’s ear.

  Mara’s throat closed, and her eyes stung with tears. She looked at the ground. If only she didn’t have to face this crowd, these people she had known all her life. She knew what they were thinking, and they were right to think it.

  Ruth stood and hurried to embrace her. She squeezed Mara more tightly than usual and whispered in her ear. “Is she coming?”

  I hope not. If only she would stay home. But she nodded. “By dusk.” Ruth gave Uziel a long look.

  “Mara?” Asher struggled to stand and slipped his hand into hers. He could probably feel her trembling. “What’s the matter, Mara?”

  Mara bent to meet his eyes. “Nothing, Asher. Nothing.” For Asher’s sake, she forced a smile. “You have time to play with Matea for a while.”

  He wrinkled his brows and squeezed her hand harder.

  “Go on,” she said. “Don’t get dirty.”

  Asher dropped her hand and crawled to where his little cousin played in the shade of the cedars.

  She stood and caught Amram smirking at her. His gaze went past her and changed to a venomous glare. She turned and found herself only ten steps away from Shem, setting up his grandfather’s tent
.

  He looked different. In his new wool tunic and dazzling white tallith, he fit in with the rest of the men of Sychar. His sandals were newly made of carved wood and strips of leather. Short, dark stubble had grown to cover his face, and his skin had darkened enough to almost hide his scar. He looked far more like a village farmer than he had when she had first seen him.

  He caught her scrutinizing him, but his eyes narrowed when he saw Amram. He pounded the tent pole into the ground with two heavy swings.

  Mara’s hands shook as she unrolled her threadbare cloak in the shade of her uncle’s tent. She spread Asher’s close by. What must he think of her? Had he told anyone? He probably thought she was as bad as her mother, going to the olive grove in the middle of the night. Her face felt as hot as a live coal. She bent her head away, determined not to notice him again.

  As the sun dipped low, the mood became festive. Musicians tuned their instruments, a reed flute lilted, a lyre joined in. Men gathered under the cedar trees. Mara joined Ruth, Uziel, and the children in the tent.

  As they began the song of praise and thanksgiving, Mara saw her mother hurrying up the steep path. Her heart sank, and the song died on her lips. She had hoped that Nava wouldn’t come. Hoped that, just once, Nava wouldn’t bring shame on her children. Guilt pressed on her heart. No, it wasn’t right to deny her mother the celebration of Passover, the holiest feast.

  Singing voices were replaced by whispers. Everyone was watching Nava, talking about her. Nava reached them and embraced Mara. Her smooth skin smelled clean, and her soft hair gleamed. Mara turned her face from her mother’s kiss. Nava didn’t falter. She bent to kiss Asher, then embraced her sister.

  Uziel stood at the entrance to the tent with his arms crossed. His mouth was turned down and his brows drawn together. Was he going to deny Nava the Passover celebration?

  Nava approached him, her head bent. “Uziel. Brother. Will you allow me to celebrate the Passover with my children and sister?”

  Uziel’s hard gaze went from Nava to his wife. The whispers around them died to silence. Mara wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. It was Uziel’s right as head of his family. He could forbid his wife to even speak to her sister. Just as he could demand that Mara marry the shepherd.

  Ruth reached out to her husband. “Please, Uziel.”

  Uziel stepped forward. “I took you and Mara in when your uncle died, Nava. And again I agreed when Shaul left. But there is talk among the men, Nava.”

  A cold finger of fear brushed down Mara’s spine. About Alexandros? Would Uziel reject Nava because of the rumors?

  Uziel stepped forward and reached under Nava’s chin. He brought her face up to look into his. “Do not bring shame upon my family, Nava.”

  Nava nodded and crouched down beside her sister. Uziel left to sit with the men. The villagers went back to their songs and instruments.

  Mara could breathe again. She scooted away from her mother and busied herself with the children. If she tried hard enough, she could avoid Nava for the rest of the night.

  When the first star appeared in the eastern sky, Passover began.

  The people left their tents and gathered in the open space behind the synagogue. The priests—Jonothon and Yahokeem—stood on the far side of a deep pit. Mara stood with her mother, Ruth, and the children. She felt a prickle on the back of her neck. She peered around Ruth to see the grizzled face of Jobab. He was staring at her.

  The head of each family brought forth a bleating lamb and stood near the trench lined with stones. Jobab held a struggling animal and a gleaming knife. A hush fell over the crowd. The priests gave the signal, and each man cut the throat of their lamb. Blood flowed, and the prayers of atonement were chanted by all.

  Mara held Asher high enough to see the priest parting the crowd, carrying a bronze bowl and a branch of hyssop. He walked slowly, solemnly daubing the foreheads of all the firstborn sons with the blood of the lambs. Asher received the mark of the covenant solemnly. He touched his forehead, then admired the red smear on his finger.

  Mara’s stomach grumbled as the men skewered the salted meat on long poles and placed them on the glowing coals of the Tannurim. The pits were sealed over with mud until midnight. As the crowd jostled around the pits, she once again caught Jobab’s stare. She didn’t like the way he looked at her—like the feast wasn’t the only thing he was anticipating. Dread crawled up her back like a poisonous spider.

  The people sang the ancient songs of thanksgiving. Flickering torches lit the mountainside. Women stacked unleavened bread in newly woven straw baskets and brought out the bitter herbs. Children fretted in their mother’s arms as they waited for the feasting to begin.

  Finally, the hour came to break open the brittle mud crust. The smell of roasted meat made Mara weak. Lilting flutes and jingling tambourines mingled with laughter. Mothers called to their children, and men groaned with hunger as women carried the steaming lamb to each family.

  All around them, the families laughed and feasted. Mara sat between her mother and Asher in Uziel’s tent. She barely tasted the succulent meat or the bitter herbs. She sang the songs of Moses and the Exodus from Egypt, but they failed to fill her with joy. Would the Angel of Death pass over her or strike her down? Oh, Lord, where is my deliverance?

  • • •

  When morning came, Mara sat in the shade of the tent with Nava and Ruth. The side panels were lifted to invite the breeze. The nearby tents were full of women and children, while the men sat farther away under the cool breath of the cedar trees. Nava hadn’t disgraced them yet. Only a few more hours, and she could take her mother back to their home, away from the watching eyes of the villagers.

  Matea settled into Ruth’s lap, her eyes drooping. “Tell us about the great flood, Mama.”

  “No, of Joseph and his brothers!” Asher protested, crawling into the shade. He climbed into Nava’s lap, dragging his twisted foot up and rubbing the red sores on his toes. “But why did God let his brothers throw him down the well?”

  Ruth settled Matea more snugly in her lap. “Sometimes the Almighty allows bad things to happen in order to accomplish his plan.”

  Mara rubbed her burning eyes. Is marriage to Jobab part of the Almighty’s plan for me? What good would that accomplish? She snuck a glance at the old man under the cedar trees. He was watching her again.

  A flash of brass and jingle of bracelets warned her that there was more to worry about than the old shepherd. Adah and Tirzah sauntered to the entrance of the tent. “Ruth, my dear.” Adah stepped in without an invitation. “What lovely children you have. You are indeed blessed by the Lord.”

  Tirzah followed, and both women sat down across from Ruth and Nava. Tirzah smiled like a snake, and Adah fidgeted like a guilty child.

  Panic stabbed at Mara. This is trouble.

  “Yes, Adah, they are some of the most beautiful children in the village. And so perfectly formed,” Tirzah said, her lip curled as she glanced at Asher.

  Asher’s thumb went in his mouth, his eyes wide. Why must they pick on him? Mara scooted closer to her mother and brother.

  Tirzah angled toward Ruth with a bright smile. “Your oldest—Yoseph—is growing tall. In a few years, he will look for a bride.” She smoothed her dress over her ample lap. “Isn’t it a heavy burden? We all want our sons to make good marriages. But they are so easily swayed by a pretty face.”

  Nava stiffened beside Mara, her hands clenching Asher’s tunic. Mara’s legs tightened, and her pulse quickened. She must get her mother away before this got any worse. She glanced outside the tent. They were surrounded. Other women—even some of the men—had stopped talking to watch them.

  Tirzah sighed. “Amram has been warned to choose a wife well, for it can bring disgrace upon your entire family to choose poorly.”

  Adah snickered behind her hand.

  Mara slipped her hand into her mother’s and squeezed. Nava did not respond. Her eyes were fixed on Tirzah. Please, Mama, whatever they say, don’t lose
your temper.

  Ruth took Nava’s other hand. Her words were calm and measured. “We trust Yoseph to make a good decision. But he is not yet interested in finding a wife, Tirzah.”

  Tirzah pulled herself up with a jerk. “Ruth, I would never push my daughters on anyone. That is for him and his father to decide. And a father’s decision is law in his family, is it not?” She jutted her chin at Nava. “At least in a respectable family.”

  Nava’s face was as pale as the tent cloth. Her hand trembled in Mara’s. How long would these women torment them?

  Matea, half asleep in her mother’s lap, grumbled. “Mama, I’m thirsty.”

  Mara moved to get the girl a ladle of water from the jar outside their tent. Perhaps they would leave now that they had humiliated Nava.

  “Oh, no,” Tirzah said quickly. She sent Matea a honey-sweet smile. “Let me get you all some water, my dear Ruth. It is Passover, is it not? A time to serve the less fortunate among us.” She caught the eye of one of her servants, standing in the nearest tent, and motioned to the water jug, her flabby arms flapping like wings. “Hurry up, you worthless girl.”

  The servant jumped as if she’d been stung by a bee. She brought the jar and a clay drinking cup to Tirzah. Tirzah took the jar without a word of thanks, and the girl backed a few steps away. Mara felt a stab of pity for the poor girl. It couldn’t be easy serving Tirzah every day.

  Tirzah dipped the cup into the water jar. She passed it to Matea, who gulped loudly. Asher struggled to sit upright in his mother’s lap, staring at the dripping cup.

  Adah smiled at Tirzah like they were playing a game. “May I have some water?”

  Tirzah nodded “We all need some water, do we not, on this hot day?” Tirzah filled the cup and passed it to Adah, then dipped it again and gave it to Ruth. When Ruth had passed it back with her thanks, Tirzah drank deeply herself. She caught her servant’s eye and tipped her head toward the jar.

  Mara’s breath caught in her throat. Nava’s hand tightened around hers.