The Ironsmith (36 page)

But she was not distressed.

“There are a few details we need to settle,” Noah said. “We need to settle who will act in place of your father in discussions of the bride price, and we need to settle on an amount. Abijah is going to offer five hundred silver shekels for Sarah.”

“Five
hundred
? Such a sum?”

“That was my reaction. However, I can hardly allow myself to be outdone by my future brother. I was thinking of six hundred. Of course, if I were obliged to pay according to your true value, I couldn't afford you.”

“You are very sweet,” she said, and squeezed his hand. “But can you afford six?”

“Oh yes. You see, I am about to marry a wealthy widow.”

They both laughed, loud enough that Sarah and Abijah glanced back.

The expression on Sarah's face was a reminder.

“You were going to tell me about this morning,” Noah said.

“I saw someone. I didn't want him to see me, so I pretended to feel ill.”

“Who was it?”

“Judah.”

It took a moment before Noah remembered who she was talking about.

“Then he must have stayed in the city. But why did you not want him to see you?”

As they walked along the dusty road, Deborah seemed to stare out at nothing. Noah put his hand on her shoulder, and she turned her face to him and smiled.

“You don't like him, do you,” he said.

“No. I don't.” She shook her head, as if admitting some failure in herself. “I never have. But that is not it. He was with another man.”

“Someone you know?”

Noah was immediately struck by the absurdity of his question. Who could Deborah know in Sepphoris?

“No. I had never seen him before. But Judah was afraid of him. I could see that, even at a distance. They were like master and slave.”

“Perhaps Judah was trying to beg money from some stranger, and the application was not well received.”

“No. This was someone he knew. Whatever was between them had nothing to do with money. The other man was … I don't know how to put it. He has some power over Judah.”

She shook her head again, this time with emphasis.

“Besides, Judah has no reason to beg for money. When Joshua first brought him to Capernaum, I gave him work. When I sold the business, I paid everyone off.”

“And so you felt—what?”

“That whatever was happening between Judah and this other man was best left between them.”

Noah nodded in agreement.

“Well, perhaps it will all be explained when Judah comes back.”

“Perhaps. But I have the feeling this was something we are better not knowing anything about.”

*   *   *

By the time they arrived in Nazareth, Judah had almost been forgotten.

Sarah entered her grandfather's house and Deborah went in search of Joshua, whom she wished to stand in place of her father for the betrothal ceremony. Noah and Abijah were left standing outside Benjamin's door.

“I think we can go in now,” Noah said at last.

They found Sarah and Benjamin sitting at the table in the kitchen. Benjamin seemed not to notice their entrance, but Sarah could not restrain a smile of something like relief. There was a jug of wine on the center of the table and one cup in front of Sarah.

Noah and Abijah sat down.

“Grandfather,” Noah began, “my friend Abijah wishes to be introduced to you. He has a matter dear to his heart, which he wishes to discuss.”

The old man, who knew his part in this little drama, raised his eyes to Abijah's face and nodded.

“What business can he have with me?” he asked.

Abijah then took the marriage contract from his pocket and read it aloud. He promised to love Sarah all the days of her life. He promised to take no other wives. He promised to pay five hundred silver shekels to her family as a compensation for their expense in raising her.

During this recitation Benjamin seemed not to be listening. When it was over he glanced at Noah, who nodded his approval.

“It seems in order,” he said at last, his face remaining expressionless. “But my granddaughter must signify her consent.”

Abijah took up the jug of wine and poured some into the cup that rested in front of Sarah. After a few seconds she raised the cup to her lips and drank.

“She has accepted your offer,” Benjamin announced, and for the first time he smiled.

He rose from his seat and went into his bedroom. When he returned he was carrying a piece of cloth. He stood behind Sarah's chair and held up the cloth by the corners, revealing it to be about two cubits square and of a linen so fine as to be almost transparent.

“This was your mother's veil,” he said, as he let it flutter down to cover Sarah's head. “You will wear it whenever you go outside, that all may know that you are spoken for.”

There followed, of course, the gift giving. A silk shawl, dyed the purple of kings along the borders. Bracelets of silver. Little leather bags filled with spices. Noah and his grandfather made appropriately admiring remarks and Sarah smiled and blushed. It was a moment of unblemished happiness.

At last Abijah rose from the table. “I go now to build a house to receive my bride,” he said, and made a slight bow. When he was out the door, the old man shook his head.

“If he can afford to pay five hundred silver shekels for his wife, doubtless he already has a house.” Benjamin picked up one of the bracelets that was lying on the table, considered it for a moment, and then set it back down. “Such a sum. I think you young people must all be mad.”

“One must honor the forms, Grandfather. And he loves her.”

“Yes, Noah. I have eyes to see that.”

Then the old man reached up and lifted the veil from Sarah's face.

“I think he will make you a good husband, Sarah. Provided he doesn't beggar himself.”

Then everyone could laugh.

*   *   *

In the evening, after the first stars had appeared, Noah and his grandfather sat outside and drank water, dipping their cups into a jar filled from the village well. The well was deep and the water was cold, and the emerging darkness was still pleasantly warm.

“Where is Sarah?” the old man asked.

“Gone to see Deborah. As you can imagine, they have a lot to talk about.”

“Then they get along?”

“Like sisters, as if they've known each other all their lives.”

“That is a blessing.”

Benjamin sat with his head resting against the wall of his house, his eyes closed. Anyone might have thought he had drifted off to sleep, but he had not.

“Two grandchildren betrothed in the same day,” he said finally. “That too is a blessing. Perhaps God has forgiven us.”

“Forgiven us what?”

“Only He knows that.”

He closed his eyes again, and a faint smile played across his face.

“Who will be married first?”

“Deborah and I, after the next Sabbath.”

“Here in Nazareth?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The family will appreciate that.” And then suddenly, as if the question had just come into his mind, he asked, “How much did you give for her?”

“Six hundred silver shekels.”

“Joshua drives a hard bargain.”

“Yes.”

They both laughed, for it was an exquisite jest.

“I was a little surprised you didn't return here yesterday,” Benjamin said—quite casually, as if the matter were of little interest.

“I discovered I had an appointment this morning.”

“I see.”

The old man seemed to regard the subject as closed, but suddenly Noah, like a little boy with an overburdened conscience, found that he wanted to tell him everything.

Except, how could he do that? He settled for telling him about his meeting with Eleazar.

“I see.”

Benjamin nodded. He had never heard of the priest Eleazar, who sat at the Tetrarch's right hand, but he knew that his grandson, who had suddenly disappeared for almost two months, had left many things out.

“Are you in danger?” he asked.

“Not now.”

Benjamin looked away for a moment, as if he did not care to meet his grandson's eye, and then with elaborate care he dipped his cup into the jar of water.

They sat for a while in the gathering darkness, saying nothing. Benjamin seemed to savor the water like wine.

“Is Joshua in danger?”

Noah shook his head. “For the present we are all safe.”

“And how long will the present last?”

“I don't know.”

The old man, accustomed to accepting the uncertainties of life, merely nodded.

Then, apparently, he decided to change the subject.

“Joshua spent the morning with me,” he said. “I suspect he merely wished to escape his family for a time. We had a long talk.”

“What about, Grandfather?”

“About God, and the mystery of His intentions.” Benjamin made a gesture with his hands, lifting the palms upward as if balancing some object. “And it became clear to me that he has thought more deeply about this question than I have. Would you like to hear what he said?”

“I already know what he said. He does not make a secret of his beliefs.”

“And what, then, do you think?”

“I don't know what to think. I have no answers, only questions.”

The invisible object in Benjamin's hands became two objects. He seemed to be trying to decide which was heavier.

“What questions are those?” he asked. It was not a challenge. He seemed genuinely curious.

“I wonder how someone I grew up with can see into the mind of God.”

“The same question his own family asks.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps he does not see at all. Perhaps God whispers these things to him, as a father whispers to his son while he falls asleep. He trusts in God as a child trusts in his father.”

“Do you believe Joshua is a prophet, Grandfather?”

The old man shook his head.

“I do not know. Perhaps he is not a prophet. But perhaps our family has produced one whom God loves as a son.”

“We all call God our father. Yet He is the greatest of mysteries. Joshua presumes to speak for Him, to know His heart, and for that reason I dread what may become of him.”

The old man dropped his hands.

“Yes, I understand what you mean,” he said. “To be loved by God is to assume a fearful burden.”

 

30

The next morning, after breakfast, Joshua came and invited Noah to take a walk with him. They set out together for the hills, where they had played together as boys, and for a long time Joshua was silent.

“You paid six hundred silver shekels for Deborah's bride price,” he said at last, making it sound like an accusation. “That is a great deal of money. Who were you trying to impress?”

Noah laughed. It seemed such an odd way to begin a conversation.

“It is about the sum she received for her house and business. All of that comes to me as her dowry. The bride price is hers alone, since she has no family. Do you begin to understand my reasoning?”

“Yes. You wanted her to have her own property. But if you ever divorce her, you forfeit the dowry and thus you lose both halves of the transaction.”

“Who would ever be fool enough to divorce Deborah?”

“That is a point.”

The ground under their feet was beginning to rise. Noah pointed to a grape terrace above a steep face of rock.

“Remember when you jumped from there and broke your arm?” he asked.

“You keep bringing that up.” Joshua smiled and rubbed his elbow. “We were just seven. I didn't realize that the farther you fall the harder you hit the ground.”

“After that, it was the rest of the summer before your mother let you come out and play again.”

“But you kept me company.” Joshua put his hand on his cousin's shoulder. “We read Torah together—it was the only thing I was fit for.”

“So why now are you asking me about Deborah's bride price.”

“Why? Did I offend you?” He looked at Noah as if that possibility had never occurred to him.

“Yes. A little.”

“Then I am sorry. These days you and I don't think alike, at least not about things like money. Your motives were honorable, but such a sum, given to the poor, would abate much suffering.”

“Deborah and I have set aside two hundred as a wedding offering to the poor.”

“But two hundred is not six hundred.”

“Joshua, you grow tiresome in your righteousness.”

This observation was greeted with an explosion of laughter.

“Then truly it must be that I am God's prophet,” Joshua announced triumphantly. “For we have it on the authority of their own writings that many considered them tiresome. Perhaps no one becomes a prophet until after he is dead.”

They had reached the summit of a low hill, so they sat down to enjoy the view. With the sun at their backs, they could see Sepphoris in the distance, shining like a jewel on the other side of the plain.

“Noah, will you go to Jerusalem this year?”

“Yes. Deborah has never seen it.”

“And will we meet there as always?”

Noah smiled to himself, for he knew this was Joshua's way of apologizing. They always spent the Passover together, at the house of a distant relative.

“Yes. We will meet there, as always.”

“I wish Uncle Benjamin could go with us.”

“He is too old. Even the thought of the journey wearies him.”

“I know, but he will not be any the more wearied for my wishing it.”

Joshua sat with his elbows resting on his knees, the expression on his face as keen as a hunting dog's.
What is he thinking of?
Noah wondered.
Merely Grandfather in Jerusalem?

“When we come back, we can tell him all about it,” Noah said.

“Perhaps he will know without our telling him.”