Song of Redemption (13 page)

“I’ve never celebrated the Feast of Passover,” Jerimoth told the soldier.

“None of us have. It hasn’t been celebrated in Judah since before King Ahaz’s reign. But King Hezekiah has been making a lot of changes. Now he’s going to celebrate the feast days, beginning with Passover. Not too many people in your country seem interested, though. The elders of Dabbasheth wouldn’t even give my horse any water.”

Jerimoth quickly reread the amazing words, memorizing them:
If
you return to the Lord, then your children will be shown compassion by their
captors and will come back to this land
.

“Yes,” Jerimoth said as he handed back the scroll. “Yes, I’m going to Jerusalem for Passover.”

“Good. Thanks for the water.” The courier mounted his horse and Jerimoth watched him ride up the dusty road to the north. When the rider finally disappeared over the horizon, Jerimoth hurried up to the house and kicked the rug aside to open the cistern. Hodesh heaved a sigh of relief as she climbed out. She fussed over Maacah, brushing bits of plaster from her clothes and hair, and several minutes passed before she noticed the tears streaming down Jerimoth’s face.

“What’s wrong?” She scanned the vineyard and olive grove, then turned back to Jerimoth. “What happened? Who was it?”

“We’re going to Jerusalem for Passover,” he said.

Hodesh put her hand to his cheek, tenderly brushing the tears from his beard. “What are you talking about, Jerimoth?”

“If we return to Yahweh, He will bring our Jerusha home to us again.”

10

V
ISITING
H
EPHZIBAH EVERY EVENING
was becoming a habit that King Hezekiah thoroughly enjoyed. She lavished him with attention as he shared the events of his day with her, and she helped him unwind from the pressures of his reign. She seemed to know exactly what to say to cheer him, to encourage him, to comfort him. Hephzibah’s beauty and quick wit far surpassed any of his concubines’ charms, and Hezekiah shared a companionship and an intimacy with her that he had never experienced before. He was beginning to understand what Zechariah meant when he said that God gave a wife for more than physical pleasure. And Hephzibah was beautiful. Just watching her or listening to her sing was a pleasure Hezekiah looked forward to more each day. No matter how busy his day, Hephzibah had become his addiction. And so, only a few days before the first Passover celebration, he made his way to her chambers with anticipation and the now-familiar longing to hold her in his arms.

“You look so tired, my lord,” she said as she led him to the couch.

“I am tired. But there’s so much to do—so many preparations to make.” He sank down among the pillows, but his overworked mind couldn’t stop planning and calculating.

“You need to relax. You look much too serious tonight.”

He was struck once again by how tiny and delicate she was, like a beautiful, fragile dish. He wished he could forget everything else and stay here with Hephzibah, but there was too much to do before the feast.

“I can’t relax yet,” he told her. “Not until everything is ready. In a few days this city will be bursting with pilgrims—at least I hope it will.”

He wondered how far his reforms would spread, how responsive the people would be to all his changes. He rose from the couch again, unable to relax, talking as he walked restlessly around the room.

“One minute I’m wondering where we’ll put everyone, and the next minute I’m doubting if anyone will bother to show up. If their idolatry is too deeply rooted …”

“They’ll come,” she soothed as she followed him around the room. “Why wouldn’t they come?”

“Well, it’s been so long since Passover was celebrated. Do you have any idea what it means to the people?”

Hephzibah stood on tiptoe and planted her hands on his shoulders, then gently pushed him down onto the couch again. “No. What does it mean? Will you explain it to me, my lord?” Her hands remained on his shoulders, gently kneading his tense muscles, and he could feel the strain start to ease.

“Umm. That feels good. Don’t stop.” She seemed to know what he needed even before he asked. He smiled in spite of himself. “Where was I?”

“You were going to tell me what Passover means.”

“Umm. Passover … It’s a celebration of freedom, Hephzibah—the anniversary of our nation’s deliverance from slavery. God heard our cries of suffering and freed us from serving the Egyptians so we could serve Him. The men of Judah work hard all year in order to make a living, but when Passover comes, they can lay aside their work for eight days and rest and feast and thank God.”

“And how will they feast for eight days if our nation is so poor?” The charming way she cocked her head to one side when she asked a question amused him.

“Good question, my dear lady,” he said, smiling. “That’s why I’ve been so busy. I’m opening the royal storehouses and donating animals from my own flocks and herds. I want to make sure that everyone who comes, rich or poor, will have eight days to relax and feast and celebrate Yahweh’s goodness.”

“Since you’re providing the food, it seems to me they should celebrate their king’s goodness instead.”

“No, I’m not the Messiah,” he said with a sigh. “I may be able to feed the people for a week, but the rest of the year we’re still slaves to the Assyrians. They demand more and more tribute every year and—”

“Shh …” Hephzibah stopped massaging and put her fingers over his lips. “You have all day to worry about such things. Now it’s time to forget about them.”

He pulled her onto the couch beside him. “You’re right. Help me forget.” Her warm skin was soft and fragrant as he kissed her neck. She laughed softly.

“What’s so funny?” Hezekiah asked.

“Your beard is tickling me.” She tugged on it playfully, and Hezekiah laughed, too.

“Ah, Hephzibah—you’re so good for me. Your laughter, your love … they’re just what I need.” He held her close and realized for the first time how very precious she had become to him in the past months.

“This is the best part of my day,” Hephzibah murmured, “being with you. But our time together is always too short.”

“And I’m afraid it will be even shorter tonight. I can only stay a few minutes.”

“Oh no.”

“I’m sorry. But there’s too much work to do.”

“Can’t your servants and officials do some of it? Do you have to do everything yourself?”

“I’m still not sure who I can trust and who’s waiting for a chance to stab me in the back. Remember Uriah?” he asked, poking her back gently with his forefinger. “I’m making a lot of changes in a very short time and probably a lot of enemies, too. People resist change. Besides, my father’s government was so corrupt that the only way I can be sure things are done right is to do them myself.”

“You’re scowling again, my lord.” She gently smoothed his forehead with her fingers. “You’re not supposed to talk about all your problems—remember?”

“And you’re supposed to help me forget my problems—remember?”

“Then I guess I’d better do my job.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him—driving Passover far from Hezekiah’s mind.

Jerimoth sighed and tugged on his beard as he surveyed his vineyard one last time. “I guess everything will be all right until we get back.”

“It’ll be fine,” Hodesh said. “Come on.” She looked impatient as she stood waiting beside the cart with Maacah. Jerimoth walked around the loaded wagon again, examining the wheels, the paired yoke of oxen, the harness fittings. He made certain that the new spring lamb he had chosen from his flock was tied securely to the load, then turned to the young man he had hired to watch over his land while he was away.

“You’ll remember everything I told you?” he asked. “You’ll remember to watch for my daughter Jerusha? She’ll be coming home soon, you know.”

“I’ll watch for her, sir.”

Jerimoth sighed again, and with a final, worried glance at his farm, he set off with his wife and daughter on the pilgrimage to Jerusalem for Passover. A seed of hope had been planted in his heart, and Jerimoth had nurtured it, clinging to King Hezekiah’s promise that the Assyrians would release Jerusha if he returned to Yahweh. Jerimoth and his family traveled south toward Dabbasheth, skirting the village and its painful memories, then passed through the towns of Cabul and Rimmon. Soon the road turned east, and they journeyed over the rolling hills to Migdal on the sparkling Sea of Galilee.

Jerimoth found a caravan of other pilgrims who were headed to Jerusalem, and he joined them for the remainder of the trip, following the lush plains along the banks of the Jordan River. They reached the oasis of Jericho on the fourth day, feeling tired and irritable, their throats parched from the choking dust. The swaying palms of Jericho offered welcome shade, and even the bitter blue waters of the nearby Dead Sea looked inviting. After a night’s rest they began the final leg of their journey, following the rugged mountain road up to Jerusalem. They climbed steadily upward, passing dry stream beds and deep mountain gorges, until their legs ached and it seemed as if they had climbed to the skies. Late in the afternoon, as the caravan paused to water the animals, Jerimoth scanned the horizon and caught his first glimpse of Jerusalem.

“Look, Hodesh!” he suddenly shouted. “There it is!” He could faintly discern the gold-colored walls of the Holy City as he squinted into the distance, nestled among the green-and-brown hills. He even caught the glint of the Temple’s golden roof, perched on the highest hill. This glimpse of their destination seemed to give all the tired travelers the extra encouragement they needed to finish their climb, and they continued on, reaching the gates of Jerusalem an hour before sundown. As soon as the sun set, the eve of Passover would begin.

The caravan disbanded as soon as it entered the city, and each family went in search of friends or relatives to stay with. It was only after he reached Jerusalem that Jerimoth realized he had no place to stay during the festival. The crowded city seemed huge and strange to him, the walls confining, and he missed the open fields and broad skies of home. He wandered through the unfriendly streets, tired and disoriented, searching for a room in an inn until it was almost dark. But pilgrims crammed every available space, and all the rooms were taken. He felt desperate as he saw his daughter sitting on top of the cart looking pale and frightened. His wife was close to tears.

“What are we doing here, Jerimoth?” Hodesh asked. “We don’t even know anyone.”

“We’ll be fine, Hodesh. One of the innkeepers said to try the caravansary in the market square. It means sleeping out in the open, but it’s the best we can do.”

Hodesh glanced anxiously at Maacah. “Is it safe? Won’t there be foreign caravan drivers there?”

“We’ll go and see,” he said wearily. “I don’t know what else to do. Besides, we need some things from the market, don’t we? Come on.”

When they reached the square, Jerimoth sent Hodesh to barter for food while he searched for an empty place to park his cart for the night. But as he listened to the caravan drivers settling into their places and heard their crude jokes and vulgar language, he realized that the caravansary was no place for his wife and daughter to sleep. He didn’t know what to do. He wandered farther down the street, where the shops were more elegant and well-kept, looking for an empty doorway to shelter them. When Jerimoth heard jovial laughter drifting from a nearby booth, he was drawn toward the sound.

A round, bald-headed man and his servant were laughing merrily as they closed up a shop of elegant, imported cloth. Jerimoth stopped a few feet from the shop and stared at them. The jovial merchant turned to Jerimoth.

“And what can I do for you, sir? I’m about to close my shop for the holidays, but if I can help you with anything …”

Jerimoth wasn’t interested in the imported cloth. He didn’t know what to say. He stared at the merchant for a moment, wringing his callused hands. “I’m from Israel,” he finally said. “I’ve come to celebrate Passover.”

“That’s wonderful, wonderful! My name is Hilkiah, and if you’re a follower of the Eternal One, then you’re already my friend. Did you have a pleasant journey?”

“I have no place to stay,” Jerimoth blurted.