“We’re following Ovadia,” I responded, “as the Holy One instructed Master Uriel.”
“The Holy One sent us to Ovadia, but we’re following his guidance because of you.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but Shimon was right. Uriel had said nothing since Yonaton’s parting that morning, as if his remaining energy was sapped by the decision to hide. He stared at the flames, motionless. “You think I’m leading us astray?”
“What I think doesn’t matter, the decision has been made. I’ll help in any way I can.”
Shimon’s sword leaned against the wall of the cave, the cedar tree emblem on its hilt reflecting the amber firelight. “Then perhaps you should leave the sword behind,” I said.
“Why?”
“It’s too easily recognized.”
“It will be out of sight. Until needed.”
I knew Shimon would refuse, just as I balked at Uriel’s suggestion to leave my knife behind during the wedding. Yet, if Uriel had insisted, I would have yielded. But that was the prophet; in Shimon’s eyes, I was a child in need of protection. If Yonaton had been with me, perhaps together we could have pressed him. But how could I persuade him on my own that his eagerness to fight was a danger to all our lives?
Shimon answered my unspoken thoughts. “Even if your plan is to sneak past the Queen’s soldiers, it’s best to be prepared.” I leaned in to argue, but he wasn’t done. He braced his back against the wall of the cave and shot words sharper than arrows. “Had your father been so prepared, you might be dining with him now in Judah, rather than hiding in this cave.”
The old prophet’s eyes opened wide for the first time since Yonaton’s departure, and shot up to meet Shimon’s.
“What do you mean?” My gaze jumped from Shimon to my master. “You said my father was murdered for preaching against the Golden Calf.”
“He was,” Shimon answered. He had brought up my father to win the argument about the sword, but now he was stuck—we both knew I wouldn’t let the matter drop until I heard the whole story. His posture, so defiant a moment earlier, deflated as he leaned in toward the fire. “It was during the Civil War. King Ahav’s father, Omri, was locked in a struggle for control of the northern kingdom with Tivni. The armies fought with arms, yes, but mainly the battle was over the hearts of the people. Omri considered the people’s reactions to every step he took, and many of them admired your father. Sending soldiers to his house would have driven many into the arms of Tivni.”
“But then why kill him at all? Did he support Tivni?”
Shimon turned to Uriel for guidance—did he not know the answer, or was he questioning how much to reveal?
Uriel broke his silence. “Your father supported neither, but both saw him as an opponent.”
“Because he was against the Calf?”
Uriel shook his head. “Because he was for real kingship. He dreamed of a reunification of the two kingdoms. To him, only a descendant of David had the right to rule.”
I remembered my conversation with Uncle Menachem about the splitting of the Kingdom. Hadn’t I also questioned how the Kingdom could split when the House of David was granted an everlasting throne?
Shimon sighed at Uriel’s answer. “Omri aimed to catch your father in an act of rebellion.”
“My father rebelled?”
“It was only the appearance of rebellion that mattered to Omri. He knew Yochanan traveled to Jerusalem to serve in the Temple for each of the three pilgrimage festivals. The roads were well guarded, but your father would lead anyone he could convince to join him through the mountain passes. Everyone knew the penalty for crossing was death. If Omri caught your father crossing, he could be rid of him without provoking the ire of the people.”
“And my mother?” My voice trembled.
Uriel said, “Your father sought my counsel the week before he died. We agreed it was best for you to be raised in the Kingdom of Judah, with his brethren. This is why both you and your mother were with him at the border when the King’s soldiers fell upon him.”
Shimon fidgeted. “I’m sorry, Lev. I shouldn’t have spoken.”
“No.” I wiped my eyes with my palms. “I want to know. Please, tell me.”
Shimon again searched Uriel for direction. The prophet nodded, giving permission to finally lift the cloak that had covered over my past for so many years. Shimon lost his gaze in the fire, staring into the burning coals rather than face me as he spoke. “I was sixteen, making my third journey to Jerusalem with your father. I walked up front near your parents and heard their last conversation.”
“What was it about?”
“You.”
Something stirred inside me. This was the story that had haunted my dreams since age two. Yet, now that I was about to hear the truth, a strange thing happened. The locked box I’d built to secure the memory all these years could no longer protect me, so it opened on its own. As Shimon spoke in his deliberate way, images unfolded in my mind, matching him phrase for phrase. It was as though I’d returned to a crisp autumn day ten years before.
“Lev’s cold.” Mother tightened the shawl that bound me to her back, drawing me closer to her body and shifting me a bit higher. Lavender wafted from beneath her headscarf.
“This isn’t a place to stop.” Father’s sharp eyes scanned the mountains on either side of the narrow path. He was older than I imagined, the sides of his beard fully gray, but he stood tall, almost at Uriel’s height, with a muscular build.
“How much farther?”
“See that ridge up ahead? Once we pass it, we’ll be out of the inheritance of Ephraim and into the territory of Binyamin. Then we’ll be in the Kingdom of Judah.”
“And then we’ll be safe, Yochanan?”
“Omri’s soldiers aren’t supposed to cross the border. Still, I never feel safe until I get back on the road.” Father gazed into her teary eyes, so much like Aunt Leah’s. She was much younger than he and had never made the trip before. “I’m sorry, Sarah, I don’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s not that.” She collected herself, but her eyes were wet. “I was just thinking I might never return.”
He sighed and peeked over his shoulder at the twenty men following him through the mountain pass. “You’re going to be all right?”
I grabbed at Mother’s ear, and she caressed my small hand in hers, turned her head back toward me, and drew my hand to her mouth to kiss it. “I just need to remember that I’m doing this for him.”
Father continued to scan the surrounding hillsides, eventually spotting a lone soldier mounted on horseback. At first he laughed, for there was nothing a single soldier could do against twenty men. The soldier grinned back at my father, raised a ram’s horn to his lips, and blew three short, soft blasts.
