Rabbi Akiva said: All that will be is already known, yet one still has the power to choose.
Pirkei Avot 3:19
6
The Rogue Vision
It began as a halting vibration in Raphael’s hand, like the twitch of a heavy sleeper. I exhaled to relax my chest muscles, a technique Daniel had shown me the night before. I sucked my breath in quickly as Raphael’s back arched and his forehead extended upward, drawn by an invisible cord. Zim increased his pace, reaching for the power of our nighttime sessions. I pushed myself to keep up with the raw blasts of rhythm pouring off his drum.
The invisible cord snapped, and Raphael slumped forward, motionless. A tremor crept up his arms, meeting at the base of his neck. His head snapped up, and convulsions overran his slack body like a powerful tide. This was more than I’d seen when Uriel received navua outside of Levonah.
Yonaton stopped playing and stood mouth agape. He caught my eye with an expression that said, “Now I see what you mean.” He quickly returned his halil to his lips, blushing at having stopped playing. But the music was hardly necessary; Raphael could no longer hear it. The other disciples broke out of their meditations, some as dumbstruck as the musicians, and watched the first storm of prophecy since the gathering began.
Raphael’s arms gave a final jolt. The tension slowly returned to his body, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, his eyes wide and unfocused. Only when his gaze fell on Uriel did he really seem to return to us. “I saw the King’s servant.”
“Ovadia?” Uriel asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yes.”
“What was he doing?”
Raphael’s forehead creased and his eyes narrowed. “He is coming.” Raphael closed his eyes and rocked gently. “And there was a voice.”
“A voice? What did it say?”
“Heed his request.”
Uriel’s forehead tightened. “Who should heed his request?”
“You should, Master.”
“Me?” Uriel pulled the collar of his tunic away from his throat. “Was there anything more?”
“That’s all I heard.”
In the heavy silence that followed Raphael’s announcement, hoofbeats thudded faintly in the distance. The tremor grew to a rumble, indicating steeds driven hard. Four chestnut horses, with one rider apiece, turned off the road at the head of the valley and descended toward the clearing. Yosef and Tzadok emerged from their caves to join Uriel, and they stood like a wall, awaiting the arrival of the riders.
Three soldiers reined in their horses at a distance, their flanks heaving from the sprint into the valley. The fourth rider approached the masters, his eyes scanning the area rapidly as he dismounted, pausing briefly when his gaze fell on the musicians. He had thick red hair, ruddy skin, and was dressed like no servant I’d ever seen. He wore an embroidered blue tunic adorned with silver, a leather belt studded with copper, and a short sword at his hip. A beam of sunlight glinted off a seal hanging from his neck. I knew from watching Yoel ben Beerah in Levonah that the King’s men wore seals around their necks—but I’d never seen one that reflected the sun.
He embraced each of the masters, holding Uriel longer than the other two. “Is there a place we can speak?”
“Let us go to my cave,” Uriel said. “You are hungry after your journey, Ovadia?”
“I’ll eat when you eat; I never have much appetite after a hard ride.” There was a nasal tone to his speech—was the servant of the King not of Israel?
Uriel’s eyes fell on me, and I felt the same sense of foreboding as when we first met. “Lev, please bring us wine.”
I laid down my kinnor and ran to the cooking area where fires burned in three large, earthen hearths. I approached a harried servant sweating over the midday meal. “I need a wine skin.”
The cook’s lip rose in a sneer. “If the musicians desire wine, they’ll just have to wait.” He turned back abruptly.
Observing his profile, I wondered what he had done to become an indentured servant. Normally, such men were debt slaves, thieves sold by the court into servitude for up to six years to pay back double what they’d stolen. Why would the prophets surround themselves with such people? “It’s not for us, it’s for the masters and an emissary from the King.”
“Ah, you should have said so.” The sneer disappeared, and the servant retrieved a skin and four clay cups.
I ran to Uriel’s cave and found the prophets and their guest seated around a low table. “So Ovadia,” Uriel said, “To what do we owe your visit?”
“Let us wait until we’re alone.” Yosef nodded in my direction.
“No, no, it is fine that he hears,” Ovadia said lightly. “It concerns him as well. You see, I’ve come for the musicians.” I was filling the cups and nearly splashed a stream of wine on the table.
“Why would you want the musicians?” Yosef asked.
“For the wedding, of course. The King heard that the prophets assemble excellent musicians for their gathering, and he wants the very best in the land for his wedding.”
“Interesting.” Uriel leaned forward to take one of the cups. “Thank you for the wine, Lev.” The wrinkled skin between his eyes creased in thought. “It’s a little dark in here, would you mind lighting the lamps as well?”
Sunlight shone into the mouth of the cave, making it quite easy to see. Yet, in my eagerness to hear more, I neither argued nor hesitated to fetch fire from the cooking area.
“I won’t consent to send them,” Yosef said as I reentered the cave. I stepped quietly toward a lamp in the back and took my time lighting it, extending my opportunity to overhear as long as possible.
Ovadia’s eyes widened as his hand clenched. “How can you refuse your king? He has the right to anything in the land that he desires.”
“He may be the King, but the full allegiance of the nevi’im is not to any king of flesh and blood. I’ve heard about Ahav’s bride, and I can only imagine what this wedding will be like. Are we, the nevi’im, meant to contribute to such a travesty? And we also have a duty to the musicians in our service. They come here to play before disciples striving for holiness.” Yosef turned now to Uriel. “How can we expose them to such practices?”
Uriel broke eye contact with Yosef and focused on Ovadia. “There are two things I don’t understand. I’m surprised to hear the King is even aware of our gathering, and all the more that we hire talented musicians to play for us. And even if he is aware and wants our musicians, why not send a simple messenger to retrieve them? Why send the steward of the palace on such a journey?”
“Two excellent questions.” Ovadia grinned as Eliav would when caught taking extra wine. “The King knows about the gathering and the caliber of your musicians because I told him. He sent me here because I advised him to handle the nevi’im tactfully before the wedding, something we could not depend on an ordinary messenger to do. I convinced him of this so that King Ahav would suggest that I go personally.”
