Uriel took the saddlebags and left without waking us, without even taking his cloak, which Yonaton used as a sleeping mat. Had he decided to journey alone so as not to endanger us? And if my master were headed for a place of safety, would he have left so many of his possessions behind? Uriel said last night that it was better to be struck down than hide. Was he riding now toward a final meeting with Izevel’s soldiers? Would he even raise his staff to defend himself this time?
We ran down toward the spring where we left Balaam the night before. From a distance, we saw Uriel tying the saddlebags into place. We weren’t too late.
“Master,” I called, “Don’t go!”
Uriel stopped his work. “Lower your voice, Lev. If you are seen with me—”
“Master, Ovadia can protect you.”
“I have given much thought to Ovadia’s plan, Lev.”
“Ovadia made me swear to bring you to Dotan.”
Uriel lifted an eyebrow at this. “Ovadia is very devoted.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “As are you.”
Resignation filled the prophet’s eyes. “It’s not just that, Master. The people need you alive.”
“I can do little for the people hidden in a cave, Lev.”
“But this war won’t last forever.”
“Not forever, no. But Eliyahu has not attacked with iron chariots. He brought a drought—it may be years until its end.”
“You must live. Ovadia says you can save the people.”
“Where is the salvation in hiding?”
“When it’s over,” I urged. “Ovadia said it might take an Eliyahu to defeat Izevel, but we’ll need you to heal the people.”
Pity curled his eyebrows. “Ovadia is mistaken. He has wisdom, but is still young. He has not seen what I have.”
“Which is what, Master?”
“The Holy One always creates the remedy before bringing the malady, though it remains hidden until its proper time. The nation will not be rebuilt by an old man crawling out of a hole. My time has passed.”
Yonaton broke his silence. “My father taught me that the prophets never lose faith. How can you give up your life, Master?”
Uriel started at the title “Master.” Only Uriel’s servants and disciples called him “Master,” rather than Master Uriel. I’d been calling Uriel master since returning to him months earlier, but this was the first time that Yonaton had declared him so. Uriel peered into Yonaton’s eyes. “Give up my life? Certainly not. My life may be the only thing I have left to offer the people, but I will not hand it over needlessly.”
“But Master,” Yonaton said, “You saddled Balaam and left your sleeping mat behind.”
“That is because I must travel a road that he cannot follow.” Uriel took Balaam’s lead rope and placed it in Yonaton’s hand. “And neither can you. I cannot be your master, Yonaton, not now. There are two pieces of bread and a skin of water in the saddlebag. It should be enough to get you home.”
We both stared dumbly at Uriel. A chill passed through me as the meaning of my master’s words struck my heart. He was sending Yonaton away. Yonaton, who ran an entire day’s journey to warn us, who killed the soldier when I could not.
Yonaton’s eyes dropped to the rope in his hand. “But I want to come with you.”
“I know.” Uriel’s expression softened. “You have a strong heart. I promised you could stay with us as long as you could help. You have done much, but you can do no more. You are not yet of age, and your family is waiting. Your path lies with them now.”
Yonaton’s eyes fell to the ground, and I knew that he would not raise his voice again in protest.
I turned away, not because I still considered his sorrow indecent, but in order to give him the privacy to grieve. I felt grateful for being allowed to continue, though it was Yonaton’s path that led to safety.
Uriel scratched his donkey behind his remaining ear. “Take Balaam for me. He has been my faithful companion but can no longer accompany me.”
The significance of his words hit me. “Does that mean we’re going to Dotan, Master?”
“Yes, to the cave.”
“But you said Ovadia was mistaken?”
“Indeed, I believe so. But you were correct last night—I was told to seek Ovadia. There is a power at work beyond my own. I must follow the direction I was given.”
Uriel shot a glance toward the sun breaking over the horizon, then back at Yonaton. “Tonight is Shabbat. You must leave now to be home before sunset.”
Balaam inched forward and nuzzled Yonaton’s hand. Yonaton scratched him behind the ear the way Uriel had a moment earlier, then turned to me, his eyes spilling tears.
I spread my arms and embraced my friend, knowing that it might be for the last time.
“The Cave of Dotan,” Yonaton whispered as he tightened his hold around me. “When I’m of age, I’ll find you.”
“Don’t,” I replied. “Stay and help your family. There’s nothing you can do for us now.”
“I….” Yonaton stopped himself short, released me, and pulled the old donkey toward the road. As he had brought no belongings, there was no need for him to return to the cave. I stood watching until he was out of sight. It was only after he disappeared that it occurred to me—I would now have to deal with Shimon on my own.
Before sunset, Shimon and I built the fire high so it would keep on burning into Shabbat. Our gear lacked for any luxuries, except for the last drops from a wineskin which Uriel used to sanctify our meal. Reclining after we ate, Shimon glared at me across the glowing embers. “It seems that we’re following you now.”
