Read Online Word Fulfilled, The by Bruce Judisch - Free Book Online Page A

choked pleas that had driven her to her knees the last two visits. No, Ianna was hers. It was meant to be.
    Hulalitu’s gaze settled on the wispy tunic on the floor. She stepped over to the puddle of sheer fabric, stooped, and picked it up. She rubbed the gauzy material between her fingers, then hugged it to her chest. Another sob convulsed her chest before she turned and left the silent hall.
     
     
    When the door closed, Issar-surrat stepped from behind the statuary of Mother Ishtar. She narrowed her eyes at the closed door and stroked her cheek in thought.

 
     
     
     
    Ten
     
     
    Nineveh, the Artisan’s Quarter
    Twenty-fourth Day of Ajaru
     
    J
    amin jerked his head up. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
    His uncle chuckled at him from his work mat. “Daydreaming, eh?”
    The young man reddened. “Yes, I guess so.”
    He couldn’t tell his uncle what he dreamt about—the young girl who languished in Ishtar’s temple. The girl who, despite her verbal and physical assault that evening in her bedchamber, had captivated his heart beyond rescue. What was it about her? She was beautiful, of course, but he’d known other beauties. Why was this one different?
    It was forbidden to marry outside Adonai’s chosen ones, he reminded himself. Didn’t Mosheh write that a man was to marry within the tribe of his own father? But this was Assyria. His father’s family was brought to a land of exile, separated from the tribe of his fathers. Did all of the Law still apply?
    His uncle’s voice penetrated his musings. “I said we will miss you when you return to Aššûr. You have been much help to your Aunt Rizpah and me. This has been a good season at market, and it is yet early. We have you and your father’s graciousness to thank for that.”
    “It’s been an honor to be here. You are dear to my father, and you’ve become dear to me, too. We all wish you and Aunt Rizpah would move to Aššûr to be closer to family.”
    Hiram sighed. “Yes, that would be good. But there are others here who depend upon us. Our earnings help support those less fortunate than ourselves.”
    Jamin glanced around the hovel. Less fortunate? How could that be? “Their fortune is increased by your faithfulness.” He smiled at his uncle.
    Hiram chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know about that. We keep each other afloat, praise Adonai , but not by much.”
    “I’ll miss you and Aunt Rizpah, too.” He meant it.
    “Perhaps a reunion next year. Who knows?” Hiram shrugged and tied off the reed mat on his lap.
    Jamin lapsed back into his thoughts about the young girl. She filled his world to the point he thought it would burst. Her almond eyes, her perfect lips, and her graceful figure all crowded his dreams at night and his thoughts during the day. The rock-hard lump in his stomach had not softened since he’d touched her shoulder before they parted that night. Although she had recoiled from his touch, he cherished the memory of his fingers across her silky skin, how the caress flamed the desire to spirit her away from the suffocating confines of the heathen temple. He needed to see her again, perhaps try to speak with her one more time. He couldn’t leave the city with such a sour taste from their last encounter. But there was another possibility.
    “Uncle, would you have any need of me during the rainy season?” Jamin tried to sound nonchalant.
    Hiram raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Perhaps. Why do you ask?”
    “I just wondered. There seems to be so much for you and Aunt Rizpah to do. I just wondered . . .”
    “We harvest the reeds for our mats during the rainy season, when the plants are moist and supple. Then we cure the stalks and cut them to length. After that, we weave for the next season.” His uncle paused. “So, yes, there is always work to be done.”
    “Perhaps upon my return to Aššûr, I can ask Father to spare me a little longer. I could come back after the heat?” Jamin kept his eyes on his work, lest he