An Echo in the Darkness(72)

God had promised that Abraham’s offspring would be as great in number as the stars. Barely a handful remained, and that grievous number was being sifted still. Vespasian had put forth a decree that all descendants of David be killed, and for that reason alone, Isaac had been nailed to a cross.

God, why have you forsaken us? What will become of my youngest daughter?

In all Jericho, Ezra did not know one man good enough for her. Many claimed to be Jews, but they interpreted the Law according to their own lusts. A few good men of strong faith were still unfit because of intermarriage. Bartholomew would be perfect for Taphatha. Like her, he was devout and strong in the spirit of the Lord. Unfortunately, his father was a Greek. Josephus was another who had approached Ezra several times. He was a good man, but his grandmother had been a Syrian.

Sinking deeper into depression, Ezra tapped his donkey again. He had been so certain that Taphatha’s future would be settled by this journey. He had been sure that when Amni saw her beauty, her gentle spirit, her purity, he would want her for his son. What father would not? And he had been right.

“She is wonderful,” he had said quietly, “but Adonijah insists upon seeing her for himself. I’ll advise him, of course. She is quite lovely.”

When Adonijah joined them, he scarcely looked at Ezra, giving only a cursory greeting. Handsome, possessed of a proud bearing, his gaze had fixed upon Taphatha in surprise, and a small smile had touched his mouth. While he studied her, Amni had boasted of his son’s acumen in matters of religion and business. Satisfied with what he saw, Adonijah had approached her boldly. Amni had been amused when his son took Taphatha’s chin and raised her head. “Smile for me, Cousin,” he had said.

And then Ezra’s daughter, who had never once disobeyed him nor given him grief, had stepped back from Adonijah and said very clearly, “I will not marry this man, Father.”

Adonijah’s countenance had darkened noticeably. “What did you say?” he had commanded with mockery.

She had looked straight into his eyes. “I will marry no man who treats my father with disdain or who ignores the counsel of his own.” And with that said, she had fled the room.

Ezra turned cold again thinking of it.

“Your daughter is a fool!” Amni had shouted, outraged and insulted.

Ezra looked between his brother and nephew, mortified with embarrassment.

“Go and speak with her, Uncle,” Adonijah had said haughtily. “It’s unlikely my fair cousin will find a better opportunity than this one.”

Ezra had spoken with her.

“It would be madness to marry such a man, Father,” she had said, weeping. “He looks upon you as beneath him because his purse is heavier. He refuses the counsel of his own father and looks upon me like a heifer for his pagan sacrifice. Did you see his face?”

“He is very handsome.”

She shook her head, her face in her hands. “He is so proud.”

“Taphatha, he is of our tribe, and there are not many of us left. Amni is a righteous man.”

“What is righteous about him, Father? Was there kindness in his eyes? Did he greet you with respect? Did your brother wash your feet or kiss you? And what of Adonijah when he entered the room? Did he speak to you with the respect due an elder? If they cannot love you, they can’t love God.”

“You judge them too harshly. I know Amni is proud. He has some right to be. He has made a fortune for himself. He—”

“Adonijah looked at me, Father. He looked at me. Not into my eyes, not once. It was as though he was . . . touching me. I was cold into my very bones.”

“If you don’t marry Adonijah, what am I to do for you, Taphatha?”

She had thrown herself on the ground before him, her forehead on his feet, her shoulders shaking. “I will stay with you, Father. I will care for you. Please, don’t give me to this man.”

Her tears had always been his undoing. He went to his brother and told him there would be no marriage. “I offered your daughter a great honor, and she dares insult us. Take her and get out. I will have nothing more to do with you or any member of your family.”

As Ezra had lifted Taphatha onto the donkey, Amni had shouted at him from the doorway. “Your daughter is a fool and so are you!”

It had taken every ounce of self-control he had not to respond in kind. He had looked at Taphatha, and she smiled at him, her eyes clear.

Perhaps he was a fool. Only a fool would be on this accursed road.

The heat of midday beat down upon him. His mouth was set in grim lines as he urged the donkey on. He knew he must place his trust in the Lord. The Lord would provide Taphatha with a righteous husband, a husband of her own tribe.